


Blood In The Cut

by Lilithee



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, peter parker - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Heartbreak, Peter Parker Has Issues, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is a Mess, i posted this on tumblr 3 years ago, my native language isnt english, sorry i suck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27663215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilithee/pseuds/Lilithee
Summary: “You found it weird that the guy knew your name, but when you turned around, everything made sense, and every muscle of your body was full of tension, freezing you in place. Peter.”
Relationships: Peter Parker & Reader, Peter Parker/Reader, Peter Parker/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 132





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heya! I wrote this piece 3 years ago and posted it on my tumblr page. You can check my other works there if you'd like, but they're kinda old and kinda bad. Also, english isn't my first language and I'm sorry in advance, but here you go! Hope you enjoy <3

* * *

“Can you just stop for a minute?” You roll your eyes with every force in your body, adjusting your glasses on the bridge of your nose. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that I can’t vent to my _best friend”_ Clara sat down on her bed and pulled her knees to her chest, her face turning into an annoyed expression while letting out some ( _audible_ ) puffs of air to make you aware of her presence. 

You turned around in your spin-chair and crossed your arms on your chest, licking your lips slowly and trying to put the best of your forced smiles and sighed while closing and opening your eyes in a slow pace.

“I’m just saying that you’ve been talking about this guy for over an hour.” Now your smile was genuine, without any traces of sarcasm in it. “I already know what brands of _underwear_ he has.” _Maybe a little bit of sarcasm._

“But you should see his butt in his red Calvin Klein boxers—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.”

Since you’ve got accepted into college, your life turned upside down really quickly; in a blink, you left your old self behind and became a new person — a _better_ one. In high school, you used to be that girl who didn’t have much friends (only two, but that’s a long story you didn’t like to tell) and would be by yourself. Not that you didn’t like people or those high schools cliché, but you just liked to be on your own. You always felt independent.

But college was turning into a new experience, since you’ve decided that you wanted to be around as much people as possible, and started to go on dates, parties and hang out with friends you’ve made along the way — _friends who didn’t choose to leave you behind._ But what you really liked about college was how the stereotypes were forgotten, since everyone was new to everyone and nobody cared about reputation as much as they cared for their studies.

Clara was your best friend since freshman year, when you got assigned to be her roommate and then, everything flowed quickly, on your own time and the most natural way as possible. She was an Italian girl and she taught you a lot of her culture and other things, but what you loved the most about her, was how she could cook well and make those awesome _bruschettas_. 

You loved her, but since she started to date this mysterious guy, she turned into _that_ girl, talking about him non-stop and telling you how “wonderful, dreamy and _hot_ he is.”

“Seriously, (Y/N), you never felt the warmth of _love_?” She asked you and noticed when your face twitched, not trying to give in your thoughts.

After a long pause and your look falling to your lap, you gave her a side smile and turned around to your open books, shaking your head. “I have. Just didn’t turn out good.”

* * *

You grabbed your coffee from the counter and gave the server a warm smile before leaving the shop. Your cold hands tried to pull your coat’s edges while sipping slowly on the cup, feeling the breeze hit your face lightly, accentuating your headache a bit, just like those after-winter atmosphere you loved. 

The people around you were talking about exams or random stuff, and some of them even stopped to greet you while passing by. You sat on a bench and crossed your legs, trying to feel comfortable and warm while drinking your coffee, feeling the heat going down your throat. Today’s last class was such a pain in the ass, since Mr. Moore wasn’t a nice teacher and would always ask students questions they didn’t know, as if he wanted them to feel stupid, and, now, you were his target.

Feeling some vibration coming from your bag, you opened it to see that it was your phone ringing, and it was Clara calling. Sliding your finger on the screen, you answered.

“ _(Y/N)? Hi! Are you free?”_ You heard her accent but something sounded off on her tone. 

“Kind of, yes” you replied, sipping again on the cup. “Are you okay?”

“ _It’s this shitty breeze, I’ve got a cold”_ she told you after coughing twice. You laughed to yourself, hearing her nasalized voice. “ _Don’t laugh, you twat!”_

 _“_ Couldn’t help myself” you told her and pulled a strand of hair behind your ear. “Do you need me to get medicine?”

“ _No, I already took it. But I need you to do something for me”_ she said and you licked your lips.

“What is it?”

“ _Harry borrowed my notes for tomorrow’s exam and I need them to study, but I can’t leave the dorm”_ she told you with some interruptions to blow her nose. “ _Can you pick them up for me?”_

 _“_ Sure” you answered while drinking the rest of your coffee and throwing the cup in the trash basked near you.

“ _Okay, I’m texting you his address”_ you could hear the relief on her voice. “ _Thank you, (Y/N).”_

You got up and read her text, reading the address and googling it. The app gave you the coordinates and you made a mental route to get there.

It wasn’t that far, and it gave you the opportunity to meet the boy who had stolen your best friend’s heart, but what you liked more was the chance you had to walk around and be on your own for a bit. Even if you had given up your old life, you missed being alone and having time for yourself sometimes. It wasn’t that bad, you were always observing people and their behaviors, watching from afar and making imaginary profiles. It was one of those thoughts that made you study psychology. 

While walking, you looked around and saw multiple people from multiple cultures and doing multiple things. Every one of them at their own pace, some faster, some slower, living their lives the best they could. You loved New York because of that, you could learn something new in every corner.

Since you moved to the big city, you were so enchanted by seeing the lights at night and the movement by day, always stunned because of the multiple art, people and different things, _things_ you’ve never seen before. Such as those _really strange_ things, like superheroes. 

Yup, _superheroes._

You often could see some of them stopping minor crimes around, not the Avengers, _no —_ those were only in the picture when something major was happening — but there were some vigilantes around, just like Spider-Man, the hero you had the _honor_ to meet.

It was during high school, in Midtown, that super-hard-to-get-in school. After being bailed on by your ex-best friend, you were walking alone in the streets, following the route to your apartment, when a car at a super fast speed turned the wrong way and almost got you, if it wasn’t for some kind of webbing net that caught the automobile. The superhero stopped in front of you and checked if you were okay, and you were so in shock that you only nodded and watched him leave.

After that, you only saw him swinging around the city, jumping from building to building — and you even had the feeling that you were being followed by him — but you accepted that you were only being paranoid. _Why would a superhero follow you around?_

When you got to the address that Clara sent you, you looked up, taking in every inch of your view — and not being enough to capture the whole building. You walked by this place sometimes and thought to yourself the same thing, over and over again: “ _This is the place I could never afford to live in”._

You entered the lobby and looked around, seeing those fancy chandeliers carrying, like, thousands of crystals and old vases that must have costed a fortune. There was a busy concierge behind a giant counter on the centre of the hall and he looked up while you walked in his direction.

“Good evening, Miss, can I help you?” He asked with a polite smile on his thin lips and adjusted the black cap on his grey hair. 

“Hi, I’m here to visit the 9th” you said, trying to find a comfortable position while leaning on the counter. 

“Sure, what’s your name?”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)”

“Oh, Miss (Y/L/N), Mr. Osborn already told me to let you in” he said with another warm smile and you reciprocated. “You can take the elevator.”

_Osborn? Like the super rich family?_

You nodded and passed through the elevator doors, pressing the 9th button and waiting while analyzing your own reflex in the mirror behind you. You were fixing your hair when the ambient music stopped and the doors opened, so you got off and saw only one wooden door in the end of the small hallway, with two big ceramic vases full of flowers you couldn’t even tell what kind they were.

_Clara got herself a Sugar Daddy._

Knocking twice, you licked your dry lips and looked at your feet, trying to get used to the dim lighting and waiting anxiously. The door opened slowly, revealing a good looking guy dressed in a tuxedo, with his hair gelled back and a white grin planted on his lips.

“Hello, you must be (Y/N)” he said and opened the door wider for you to get in. “I’m in a rush right now, but my roommate knows where the notes are. Please, _mi casa és su casa.”_

 _“Oh,_ okay” you smiled while entering the apartment.

“Maybe we can meet another time!” It was the last thing he said before leaving the place.

Your eyes were everywhere, analyzing the white walls, the big windows and the marble floor, every step you took making an echo through the halls. Harry had a piano in a corner and many sculptures and paintings hanging around, some you even recognized as being from _Van fucking Gogh._ You took the liberty to sit down on the beige leather couch while waiting for the roommate and started to play with your fingers, watching the fire from the fireplace burning the woods. 

“ _H-Hi!_ I’m sorry I took so long—” you heard a familiar voice and turned around to take the notes and leave as soon as possible. “I _— (Y/N)?!”_

 _“_ How do you—” you found it weird that the guy knew your name, but when you turned around, everything made sense, and every muscle of your body was full of tension, freezing you in place. 

_Peter._


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Ever since you were just a little kid, you used to pull your coat’s edges whenever you felt nervous or uncomfortable. In kindergarten your teacher — Ms. Petunia — would always call you out for that, telling you she didn’t want your coat to be ruined, so you would just look up and smile a bit, nodding and stopping your actions.

However, at the present moment, your eyes were almost jumping out of your face and you were almost _ripping_ your coat from pulling the edges so hard.

You haven’t seen Peter in ages, hoping that you guys would never cross paths again, but the Universe was always so tricky and seemed like the epitome of a guy sitting on an old recliner chair while eating buttery popcorn and watching your lives like a really funny reality show — you felt like this guy _loved_ laughing at you.

Peter Parker was right there, in front of you, not looking like the awkward boy you met when you couldn’t even spell your name right and grew used to know and _love_ after. He wasn’t the same boy who wore flannels under faded sweaters or the same boy who would always fold his jeans edges before leaving his house. He didn’t look like the Parker you met _before_ , but he did look like the Parker you got often bailed on _after_. 

His structure grew bigger; you knew that Peter got his puberty hitting him like a whole _plane on full speed_ , but he looked more muscular than ever. You took a moment to analyze his exposed chest and all the outlines from his abs, something you didn’t remember from when you were younger. He had a few bits of facial hair growing on his jaw lazily, something that he never cared about when he was younger, and now he didn’t have the _baby face_ anymore — you _almost_ laughed to yourself. Almost. His hair didn’t change that much, but looked a bit out of place and you imagined it must be because he was at home.

But when you heard a sweet voice echoing in the halls of that big apartment and it’s owner coming from behind the door with a satin robe covering her body and messy hair _herself,_ you understood why Peter was only wearing low sweatpants and a worried expression.

“Is everything okay?” Asked the girl, looking between you two and noticing the tension in the air.

_No. It’s not_. You felt betrayed, completely. You knew that sensation and you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t feel that anymore, but there you were again, feeling like your heart was took from your chest and only emptiness filled the big hole where it was supposed to be. _Not again._

_“_ The notes, please” was the only thing you could say without letting a sob escape from your trembling mouth.

Peter looked like a doe watching it’s death coming from a fast car; his eyes wide, showing the brown orbs you often dreamed about — _more like nightmares —_ and tried to forget for so long. The notes were hanging between his fingers and you moved your gaze there, not wanting to be watched from both.

But when you saw her small hand sliding through his chest, you knew you couldn’t deal with that anymore. Letting out a sigh, you grabbed the notes and quickly turned on your heels, getting in the elevator and leaving the apartment as soon as possible.

Your back met the cold walls of the elevator and you tried to contain your sobs with your hands, but you couldn’t battle with the tears that rushed down your cheeks, burning every inch of your skin and blazing your eyes harshly. All those years you always tried to think about how you would react if you saw the boy ever again, but you didn’t expect to have that reaction, and you weren’t _definitely_ counting on the fact that he was with _someone.  
  
_

* * *

  
When you got back to your apartment, you took your boots off quickly and tried to hang your keys on the key ring, but dropped them on the floor because of your trembling hands. You let out a gasp and tried not to cry again, leaning down to pick them up, when you heard Clara’s voice coming closer.

“ _(Y/N)? Is that you?”_ Her accent echoed between the walls.

“Y-Yeah, just got home” you answered and rubbed a hand on your face, trying to make it less worse. 

Your roommate came back from the hallways and stopped right in front of you, her green eyes analyzing every inch of your fake smile and arching a brow almost immediately.

“I’ve got your notes” you said, putting the envelope on the counter.

“Darling, I’m sick, not _dumb.”_ She crossed her arms above her chest covered by a faded pink robe. “Sit down, we are going to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about” you reassured her, taking off your coat and adjusting your scarf. 

But Clara never gave up. You found yourself now sitting on the couch with both your legs pulled to your chest and inhaling and exhaling deeply with eyes closed, trying not to see the world falling around you. Your best friend had worry in her orbs and you could see that clearly, but you weren’t ready to tell her all that.

“… _or_ we could stay in silence” the girl blew her nose in a napkin next to her. “Fuck those wipes.”

“I’ll go buy more” you said, getting up.

“ _No._ Look at yourself, girl. You look like a train wreck.” Clara discarded her napkin and massaged her temples lightly. “What happened?”

You took a deep breath and sat down again, now throwing your head back against the cushions while staring vaguely at the ceiling.

“You remember that story I told you about my ex-best friend?” You inclined your head just to take a glimpse of her. 

Clara seemed to be looking for the memory. “ _Oh,_ that one that rejec—”

“— _Yeah._ that one. No need to bring back the story.” You rolled your eyes and knew that the girl was trying to keep her laughter. “Anyways, he’s your boyfriend’s roommate.”

“ _What?!”_ The brown-haired girl widened her eyes, staring at you with surprise all over her face. “Are you serious?”

You let out a snort and pursed your lips together. “ _Unfortunately.”_

The Italian kept quiet for a while, what gave you time to process everything you just said. It was like saying it out loud made it all look more real, and you didn’t want it to. 

“He’s cute, though.” The girl spat.

“ _What?”_

“That Peter boy. I’ve seen him a couple of times there” she said, biting her lower lip and shooting you a playful gaze. “He’s hot.”

“Okay, I’m out of here” you left the couch and started walking to the hallways direction. 

“Oh, c’mon, (Y/N).” Clara tried to yell, but her voice didn’t sound quite loud. “You two could be friends again.”

For a bit, you hesitated at the thought. You couldn’t say that it never crossed your mind the scenario where you and Peter lived your lives without all the trouble you managed to create back then. 

You missed being friends with him. It was like you knew exactly what he was thinking and the other way around; you missed movie nights with Ned coming along and throwing popcorn at you while you were quoting Obi-Wan’s phrases and Peter laughed at each of them; you missed studying in his room, quietly eating snacks you usually bought on the way to the apartment and trying to get Math inside your mind; you missed May and her bad cooking, but you knew that it was made with her whole heart, so you would eat anyways.

But, mostly, you missed the _idea_ of Peter Parker. 

Those nights spent on alert, sitting on an uncomfortable arm chair near the hospital bed, holding your mother’s hand and sipping on your coffee cup frenetically, trying not to sleep, fearing the thought of letting the almost-cold fingers go. Those were the nights you would think of Peter being next to you, holding your shoulders reassuringly or trying to distract you from the silent hours you would spend just looking at the woman in front of you.

And when you let go of those slim, cold fingers, you could only think about being held close to his chest, inhaling the softener scent from his clothes while letting all the tears slide quickly; but that didn’t happen, and you were alone that night, watching all the nurses coming and going and the doctors trying to explain things you already knew, but you just nodded and went back to your dorm.

It was almost night when you noticed that you were daydreaming on your bed. You sat on the edge and crossed your legs, wiping the tears away from your cheeks in a try to make them go away from the thoughts that always followed you. Standing up, you saw the unpacked boxes still hanging in there, untouched, containing things you didn’t want to see yet. Clara always said she could help you to organize the items, but you always reassured her that you would do that yourself and she would call you a “ _lazy ass”._

You headed to your shared bathroom and washed your face quickly, running your fingers through your locks and rubbing your eyes for a bit, trying to get rid of the redness and leaving the apartment to grab dinner.  
  


* * *

  
“I failed miserably” the blonde boy ran a hand through his hair, sighing slowly. “How did you do on yours?”

“I think I did great” you said, proud of yourself. You’ve been studying for that exam for a few weeks. “But it was pretty hard, though.”

Jax rolled his eyes and opened the café door for you, holding it until you were inside. “Mr. Ferber always gives me the impression of being unhappy.”

“Why?” You arched a brow and approached the counter.

“He just doesn’t care much about his students. This exam proved everything” Jax let out a small giggle and you joined him. “Okay, go sit, I’ll order for us.”

“You don’t _—”_

_“Black coffee without sugar.”_ He interrupted you. “I have known you for a while, (Y/N).”

Jack — _Jax —_ Redler have been by your side since sophomore year. You guys met while hanging out with Clara and her late boyfriend, that was in the same classes as Jax and tried to set you guys up. You and him got along pretty well and even dated for a few months, but never have made that official since _life_ happened and you weren’t emotionally stable to date anyone at the time. After that, you guys kept hanging out and Jax showed a very understandable side of him that you appreciated. You did have feelings for him, and you knew he did too, but his were _stronger_ and you were _scared._

You arched your brow again and stared at him for a bit, only to roll your eyes once more and left the counter, looking for a empty table for both of you. Sitting down, you grabbed your phone to see if Clara was doing any better, so you dialed her number and waited for a while, but no one answered.

Giving up, you put your phone back on the table surface and saw Jax coming at you holding two cups. The blonde boy sat on the other chair and leaned in a bit, tiredness holding his expression that gave everyone passing by enough evidence of his exhaustion. 

“I don’t know why I chose to study Physics.” Jax sipped on his drink and contracted his mouth. “Ugh, this needs sugar.”

You watched the boy grabbing a few sugar packets and ripping them all at once, throwing it violently on his latte and mixing it with a wood stick. “You’re mad to like Physics, I’ll give you that.”

“It’s not like it’s the _worst,_ but sometimes, I feel like climbing the Grand Canyon and throwing myself.” He said without much change on his face. 

Giggling for a bit, you focused on your drink while you sipped slowly, taking in the strong taste and the warmth in your mouth keeping every inch of your body protected from the cold weather. 

“Okay, what’s wrong?” The boy asked while licking his foam stained upper lip.

“Huh?”

“You seem off” he stated, intrigued by your expression. 

“I’m not” you smiled at him, hoping that he would just drop the subject. “Just thinking about the exam.”

“No, you’re not.” 

“Excuse me?”

Jax put his cup away for a bit, grabbing your warm hands from the coffee with his, without breaking eye contact. “Look, (Y/N), I know that you haven’t been—”

“Let me stop you right there” you took your hands away, pressing your eyes closed and shaking your head slightly. “I’m _fine_ , and it doesn’t have anything to do with my mother. 

The blonde kept quiet for a while, only reading your eyes carefully, trying not to scare you away — since it wasn’t that hard to. He sighed deeply, turning the corner of his mouth into a half-smile; signing _pity,_ a reaction you grew used to. Regaining your composure and counting to ten, you reciprocated his action and looked away. 

“You saw him, didn’t you?” He said, grabbing you back to reality. “The Parker boy?”

“ _How-_ how did you know?” Furrowing your brows, you bit your lower lip and tried to connect the dots. 

“He’s in my classes. You told me about him a while back and I remembered his name.”

You felt the same sensation of your thumping heart in your chest and fingers starting to tremble. “ _What?!_ Are you _—why didn’t you tell me?_ ”

“I guess…”

“Oh my god” you stood up from the small table and shook your head once more. “You’ve got to be _fucking kidding_ me.”

“Hey, (Y/N), wait!”

Leaving without saying anything, you just kept sipping on your coffee, finishing it before even getting outside.  
  


* * *

  
When you got back to your apartment — after trying to call Clara ten times to see if she needed anything — you were fumbling. Your chest was so heavy that it looked like if was going to fall from your body anytime, and you wouldn’t mind at all. You turned your key and opened the door, entering the apartment and taking off your boots and your heavy coat.

“ _Clara”_ you called her.

“(Y/N), I need to—” 

“Jesus! I’ve been calling you all morning!” You exclaimed, hanging your keys and turning around. “Where’s your damn phone—”

You froze again. _What is that that I’m freezing so much lately, and not even because of the cold weather outside?_ You looked the woman sitting on the sofa next to Clara, both holding cups of tea and watching you back. 

“Hi, dear” said May, opening a big smile. “It’s so nice to see you again.” 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for the kudos yall, hope you enjoy!

* * *

“ _May?”_ Your eyes widened in surprise, scanning the woman’s face and trying to see what has changed. 

The Italian woman had features like an angel from above, the same details that you could never forget. You met May a long time ago, growing closer to her and even considering her as family. But then again, even Peter was _family_ at the time. 

She didn’t change that much; her eyes were still the same brown ones, her hair was still long and shiny, but now she had some white strands mixed with the hazelnut ones. Her face showed a bit of wrinkles, but nothing exaggerated, just something that you guessed that came with the yeas.

You remembered May being an awesome woman, strong, independent and passionate about life. She would always do her best to make things right and you knew that Peter got that from her. You were by her side when you saw her knees hitting the grass and her hands lacing around the coffin, as if she didn’t want to let her loved husband go, and even after that, she managed to be still and strong, always trying to show help for her nephew. Now, she was in front of you, a sympathetic smile growing on her face while she offered a seat between her and Clara.

“What are you doing here?” You asked and the woman while sitting down, your eyes never leaving hers.

She put the cup down, licking her lips, slowly tasting the small tea drops that rested on her mouth and not daring to look away: “I missed you”.

You felt your chest getting heavier again, now with a bit of hope that swam in the sea of sadness that you created for yourself. Even if it wasn’t voluntary. The woman put her hand on your knee and rubbed her thumb against the fabric of your jeans, but her warmth lingered on your skin.

“I heard about your mother” she said, her lips failing the smile. Everything felt suffocating once more, and the walls looked closer to you in every blink of your eyes. “I only saw the letter yesterday, since I moved to a new apartment and it doesn’t get the mail from the older address.”

“I’ll give you space.” Clara stood up and pulled her robe closer to her body, smiling at both of you and walking to the hallway.

You watched your roommate leaving the room and lifted up your legs just so they could touch your chest and be in a comfortable position. May took her hand away and grabbed the mug again, sipping quickly. The letter that you sent her was simple, it was just to inform that your mother died and she didn’t have to visit her anymore.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, (Y/N)” May let out a deep sigh and sat on her side, her elbow sinking into the soft cushion. 

“It’s okay, she’s not suffering anymore” you twitched your mouth in a tentative of smiling, but failed again, so you looked away. “She was in a constant battle.”

The memories from those quiet nights came back, those where you would visit her with two plates of soup and orange juice, to talk about anything and everything. You knew that she was spending all her energy just to look decent to not worry you— _you knew it—_ and it felt like your fault that she left so soon; all wasted just to try to look better for _you_. And you would never be aware of the battles that she fought. 

“Oh, dear, I wish I could take the pain away from you” she gave you the sad eyes. You hated those, but you knew that it wasn’t her fault. 

“I’m fine, May” you guaranteed and put your hand on her shoulder.

She smiled in vain, because you knew that she was aware of your grief. She had been there before.

“I want you to know that, even if we got apart from life, you can always count on me. I left my number on the table, if you ever need to call” the woman leaned in for a hug and you accepted the gesture, resting your arms on her sides. “Even after all that happened.”

You sighed, mostly because you knew that things like that weren’t supposed to change. And it wouldn’t. 

* * *

When May left, you felt the same emptiness on your body, soul and mind; that one that you felt only twice, when Peter left and when your mother passed away. 

And boy, was it bad.

It was like the sensation of feeling too small. That one people get when they are feeling anxious or nervous and tend to get dizziness and feel like everything is failing around you; the walls are too big, the buildings are too many, the voices are too loud; and nothing seemed _right_. 

Clara was there, only to ask if you were fine, and then, she saw your fake smile and chose to believe it, leaving you once more. When you heard her door click closed, you grabbed your stuff and ran away from your apartment, as far as you could. 

You took the stairs, running down and almost falling countless times, but you didn’t mind; nothing else mattered around you. So you kept on running through the streets full of people, crossing paths that you didn’t seem to care about. Your chest was almost close to your jaw, moving quickly and sweat was forming on the sides of your face, hair now almost sticking to the skin and you felt _tired,_ exhausted and wanting nothing more than to cry alone.

Finding an alley, you entered the place and rested your back against the brick wall, right behind a dumpster that was so big that no one from outside could see you. You let all the tears you were holding back roll down your cheeks, mixing with the redness that had already formed there. Between deep breaths and shaking hands, you closed your eyes, trying to stop it all; you didn’t want that anymore.

“Oh man, this is going to stain” said a voice coming from your front.

You looked up and saw a red and blue suit, the same one you saw years ago and felt relief; now you could only feel _sick._ The person behind the mask was pointing to your side, and when you looked down, you saw that your coat edge’s was drowned into a small puddle.

_Yeah, great._

_“_ Sorry, I guess I didn’t introduced myself” the guy offered you a hand and you could feel that his voice didn’t match his body language. “I’m—”

“I know _who_ you are” you snapped and wiped a few tears away, standing up and taking off your now wet coat. 

“Oh, okay. I think it’s only fair for me to know who _you_ are too now, am I right?” The guy behind the mask got a bit closer to you, the sunlight now hitting his uniform and outlining his abs and muscles — _making you blush slightly._

“Just leave me alone” you said, pinning the bridge of your nose between your fingers. 

“I see we started at the wrong foot, so let start again” the hero took a step closer and offered you his hand. “I’m Spider-Man.”

“I already know you” rolling your eyes, you threw your coat in your arm and tried to walk away. 

“Then you must know that it’s my job to protect civilians” he said, jumping and landing right in front of you, almost killing you by scare. 

“Not my problem.”

The man put his hand in front of you, signaling for you to stop and held his own hips.

“It’ll be your problem when you get a cold. It’s snowing here, haven’t you seen?” He snapped and his tone had some type of worry, but you chose to ignore. _Who is he, anyways. “_ Let me walk you home.”

“I don’t want a psycho seeing where I live” you arched your eyebrows and sighed deeply, hoping he would leave soon.

“ _Hey!_ I’m—I’m not a _psycho!_ ”

You smiled to yourself, looking up to meet his mask again. “Only psychos says that.”

“ _Oh, damn, what gave it away?_ ” 

Letting out a small giggle, you rolled your eyes, not wanting to lose the seriousness you had a few moments before. You couldn’t just give that guy the pleasure to see you smiling.

“Okay, Spider-Man, thanks and everything but I have to go.” You pulled the sleeves of your sweater down, just to cover your cold hands. 

“I’m not letting you go alone, it’s freezing here and you are only wearing a sweater.” He said, his hand caressing his neck slightly. 

“Who are you to criticize my lack of clothing?” You snapped and pointed at him. “You are only wearing this suit and perhaps you’re naked under that. I’m not the one who should be freezing.”

“I have a heater in my suit” he said and you could almost see his shit-eating grin. 

“I give up.” You sighed and pointed towards the streets. “Follow me.”

But Spider-Man seemed to have other plans, and you only noticed that when he hooked one arm around your waist, scaring you to death and his masked face got closer to yours.

“Did you _really_ think that we would _walk_ there?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: this chapter contain some non-consensual stuff and from now on the story will contain some very detailed descriptions of panic attacks
> 
> also this is a double update because I'm a lazy mf so enjoy

* * *

You didn’t know how he did that all the time.

Swinging in the air was something that you never thought about doing before and never _wanted to_ in the first place. Spider-Man always made that seem so easy and chill, but now, when you were feeling the cold breeze against your face and your coat and hair floating you decided to give it a second thought. You would be freezing out by the lack of your wet coat, but the heater in his suit warmed you.

Your arms were interlaced around his neck as an involuntary move, and you knew that you could take them off anytime, since his strong arm was wrapped around your waist, but you were too scared of falling to consider that at all. 

“Hanging in there?” He said in a high tone so you could hear him through all those traffic noises and screams of his _fans._

_“Oh my god”_ you screamed and hid your face on his neck, breathing in and out while trying not to panic — _something you were quite used to._

_“_ I need you to tell me your address now.”

And you told him with your trembling voice, but he heard and let out a little laugh, shooting his webs at buildings so he could get to your apartment. You wouldn’t know, since you spent the whole _trip_ just face-buried deep inside the hero’s neck.

But the speed slowed down and you lifted your face just to see if you guys were close and that’s when Spider-Man — Avenger, friendly neighborhood, superhero — slammed his face on the wall beside your window.

“ _Holy shit!_ ” He said and feel right onto your fire escape, back hitting the railing and making a metallic noise.

You kept your balance and stood by his side, crouching down so you could see him closer and check for any injuries. The hero kept laying on his back, now a hand on his chest and moving slightly according to his breathing. 

It was kind of funny, but you kept it to yourself.

“ _Shit”_ you muttered under your breath and opened your window and threw your coat inside, rushing to get back to his side again. “C’mon, get inside, let me help you.”

“I’m okay” he said, groaning while he tried to sit up, failing. “I really—”

“ _No,_ get inside. It’s cold and you’re hurt.” You ordered, helping him up and putting his clothed arm around your neck so you could slid his body through the window.

“So bossy” he let out a faint laugh and put both his legs on your desk, then getting completely inside. 

You got to your room right after him and helped the hero to sit on your bed, putting his feet on the covers and adjusting the pillows.

“Wow, if I knew that I would receive great treatment, I would’ve gotten in quicker” he winked with his mechanic eyes and you rolled yours.

“I’m gonna get ice” you said and left after, leaving him alone inside your room.

_Yeah_ , it wasn’t often that a superhero stopped by and hit his face on your wall, but you wouldn’t think wrong about him, since he already helped you twice in your life and he seemed like a great person. There wasn’t any dirt on his historic and the man helped saving the _fucking_ world, so who were you to judge?

You opened you freezer and found frozen peas sitting there. Clara wasn’t in the apartment, and you remembered that she said something about going to Harry’s to watch movies — _ha,_ as if. Was it weird that when you thought about being all alone in the apartment with the freaking Spider-Man you got some butterflies? _Nah,_ not at all.

But when you got back to your room and found the hero walking around and analyzing all your stuff, you found that _pretty_ weird. You watched him while he looked at some of those pictures that you hung on the walls; pictures of your mother, pictures of you and Clara at Italy when she invited you for Christmas with her family — it was right after your mother’s death, so you decided that it would be the best if you were away —, and pictures of _Peter._

You never had the courage to take them off, so you decided that it wouldn’t _hurt_ to keep them there. 

“What are you doing?” You asked and he was caught off guard. _This is weird, doesn’t he have spider senses or something?_

_“_ Uh, I was just—” He turned around, his body completely tense by the position and his hands up. “ _I—”_

_“_ That’s okay, there’s nothing wrong with snooping around my room” you gave him a sad smile. “But now is time for you to sit and let me take care of your head.”

The hero let out another faint laugh and did as you told him to, going back to your double bed and sitting on the grey covers, resting his hurt back on your soft pillows and letting out a small moan from comfortableness.

“Where does it hurt the most?” You asked and he sighed.

“My right cheek and my back.”

“Let’s take care of your back first, okay?” Lifting up your hand with the frozen peas, you sat by his side. “I’ll need you to take off your suit.”

“Already wanting to undress me?” He said in a sarcastic tone and you crossed your arms, shooting him a glare. “ _Okay,_ I will. _Jeez_.”

You smiled to yourself and waited for him to turn around and start to slide the red and blue suit down just until it was exposing his torso and the redness from the collision on the railing. You twitched your face and bit your lower lip just slightly, taking in the vision right in front of you, running your eyes through the strong lines of his muscles, as if they were drawn there by the gods and heavens, following by his spine that had some scars along the way down to his waist, making your chest feel a bit heavier.

The news were harsh on superheros. The paper and news websites loved talking shit about them as if they never helped people around and were willing to die for the others every day — I mean, how scary that is — and you never thought deeply about that, until the moment your eyes traced every inch of his marked skin, something that he would have to carry for the rest of his life and you could do nothing to erase that.

So involuntarily, your fingers brushed over his skin, almost touching the line of his spine and making the man in front of you shiver and a gasp escaped your mouth. _What am I doing?_ You quickly removed your hands from his back and cleared your throat, leaving a very silent and awkward moment between you two.

That was until the hero decided to shoot another one of his infamous comments; “ _Are you done checking me out?”_

_“_ You wish” you adjusted your back and started dabbing the ice on the red lines from the railing. 

“ _Ouch,_ I’m hurt” he put a hand on his chest and looked over his shoulder, finding you there in full concentration, biting your lower lip just slightly the way you always did when focused. “By the way, it’s a nice room you’ve got here.”

You looked around just a bit and turned back your attention at him. “Thanks, I just moved in not too long ago.”

“Where did you live before?”

“I’m really starting to think that it was a bad idea to let a _stalker_ in my room” you laughed and he crossed his arms on his chest, you were almost positive he was pouting. “I lived in the dorms, but I was sick of it and planning on moving. Not here, though, but then… _things_ happened and I needed another place.”

Spider-Man listened carefully and was quiet after hearing it all, and you were glad he didn’t asked about what _things_ you were talking about. 

“Well, tell me about those pictures.” He changed the subject, noticing that the air was starting to get thicker.

You took a look at them quickly and pointed at the first one; the one with your mother.

“That’s my mother” you said and felt the little pain growing back inside your chest, but you chose to ignore. “That day we decided to camp at a lake and we thought a bear was attacking us. Turned out to be the camp guard suspecting us because we were drinking and we got so scared that we left right after.”

The hero laughed and you did too, remembering the old times when she was still alive and _there._

_“_ The other one is with my roommate, when she invited me for Christmas with her family back in Italy. It’s pretty great there, sunny and cooler than here.” You bit your lower lip when noticed what was the next one and thought about changing the subject immediately. “Have you ever traveled outside the country?”

“And the last one?” The hero was faster than you and now there wasn’t a way out and you ended up pressing the frozen peas a bit too hard on his back, making him groan. “ _Ouch.”_

“Oh, sorry” you caressed his skin with your warm fingers, contrasting with the temperature and making him shiver again. “So, do you often help girls that are crying on dirty alleyways?” 

He didn’t seem to like the way you changed the subject, but it was _necessary._

_“_ Only when they are _cute_ ones.”

The comment made you blush _hard._ You always had something on the tip of your tongue when getting a compliment, but now you found yourself speechless.

“ _Hm—_ What about those boxes?”

You were kind of confused about what he was talking about _,_ but when the hero pointed at the pilled up boxes sitting in the corner where you didn’t often see, you felt chills running down your spine and stopped dabbing the peas on his back.

“ _I-_ It’s a long story.” You bit your lower lip a bit too hard, now tasting the blood on your tongue.

“I have time” he persisted and you took a deep breath, adjusting your position, feeling too uncomfortable about everything around you.

You didn’t have any motive to trust the hero other than because he saved you, but yet, you did anyway. It was like just his presence could make you feel safe and you were pretty sure that the Avengers didn’t gossip about the civilians lives they saved; but your mother’s subject was still a bit unreal for you, and you were afraid of what would happen if you really said that _it happened_ , that she was _dead_. You wanted to preserve the memories.

“T-They are just boxes that I forgot to… _hm…_ unpack.”

The hero, again, didn’t seem to believe, but you ignored that anyway.

“All done” you said after taking the frozen peas away from his back and watched him turning around so he could see your face.

“Well, I have to go now” he said and dropped his hands to his lap, fiddling with his covered fingers. “Thank you, for the company and the help.”

“I should thank you” you smiled and rested your head on your palm. “Thanks for _rescuing_ me from that dirty alley.”

The hero stood up and walked in the direction of your window, putting one of his feet on the fire escape.

“But what about your cheek?” You asked, crossing your legs and showing a worried expression.

“Well” the hero stepped back a bit and jumped outside, sticking his masked face in. “I need an excuse to come back”

With that, the hero left with a shoot of his webs and swinging by the buildings.

* * *

“We should throw a party” said Clara while putting her feet on the coffee table and eating a handful of popcorn.

You furrowed your brows from behind the counter and brought the glasses with the wine to the couch, giving one of them to your roommate and taking of for you. 

“Why that sudden idea?” Popping the wine open, you poured on her raised glass and on yours, bringing yours to your lips and sipping on the liquid.

“Because if I didn’t say anything you would be surprised with people getting here tonight and seeing you in your bunny pajamas.”

You gagged on the wine and put your glass away, now pulling your legs against your chest and coughing a bit more.

“ _What?_ You already invited people here?” Furrowing your brows again, you crossed your arms. “And what’s wrong with my bunny pajamas?”

“Nothing wrong, you just should burn it.” She laughed and you pushed her slightly. “But about the party, I just thought we could use the fun after those exams. They kicked our asses and we need to chill a bit.”

“My idea of chilling is napping or reading, not partying.”

_Lies._ Before meeting Spider-Man your idea of chilling was napping or reading; but after meeting the hero, you decided that it had changed. It had been two weeks since his first visit and then, every day until now you two would be hanging out inside your room and turning into friends — _or something more._

Spider-Man felt like home to you. He was the only one that you could confide and trust the last few days and you would look after the time when he would get to your window with snacks on his hands and you two would talk about everything and sometimes, nothing, just to enjoy the silence. But two days ago, when you two had a _very specific talk,_ he decided to not show up the day after, and you knew that your _home_ was ruined.

“That’s because you’re boring” Clara showed her tongue and you rolled your eyes. “Now drown that wine and go dress up.”

You didn’t like the idea very much, but you agreed when she said that you had to lighten up a bit and have fun, after all, college wasn’t all about dying of studying and only standing up because of caffeine. 

So after you got out the shower and blew your hair dry, you applied some makeup while listening to cheesy 80s songs — those that Clara hated but you didn’t mind — and danced while doing your hair and searched for clothes to wear. You grabbed a navy blue short dress that you had hidden in your wardrobe and put a black leather jacket to protect from the cold ambient. You put your tight-high boots and stepped out of the room.

“You look like a snack” Clara said while placing red solo cups on the counter next to the beverages. She was wearing a nice tight cream colored dress and a denim jacket with a nice rose lipstick that you knew that would fade after Harry’s arrival. “C’mere, we are hostess, we need to live this party.”

You walked to the counter and sat on the stool and leaned in, picking the snacks and putting them on bowls, organizing them to help Clara setting everything up before people started arriving. 

“How so?” You smiled and watched the girl opening a tequila bottle and pouring two shots and giving one of them to you while giving you a sliced lime and sucked hers. 

You did the same and drowned the shot that came corroding your throat. Twisting your face and pressing your lips together, you let out a little laugh and a cough right after.

“ _Let’s get the party started”_ Clara smiled and raised her glass, and you raised yours too.

* * *

You decided that it was time for shots when you saw Harry arriving and bringing Peter with him. Then, the same girl from the day you went to their apartment showed up and you decided that shots weren’t enough and you needed a whole bottle of vodka.

And there you were, on the corner, gulping on the alcohol that didn’t even burned your throat anymore, and watching Peter located on the center of the room, the beautiful woman in front of him, her hands on his chest while she talked to him with a big smile on her lips. You felt like throwing up and you couldn’t even distinguish if it was from the vodka or the scene right in front of you.

You noticed that the Parker boy seemed a bit annoyed and his eyes were everywhere but the girl, but it must’ve been the alcohol tricking you into believing that he was searching for you.

“Hey, don’t you think that you drink too much?” You heard someone talking to you and turned around, still holding the bottle.

Jax was right in front of you, his hair slicked back and wearing a leather jacket, matching yours and smiled when he saw you checking him out.

“I’m not drunk” you spat and gulped again.

“I didn’t say you were.” He laughed and leaned a bit closer to you, making your heart beat faster. Then, his fingers brushed yours to take the neck of the bottle and he put it away from you, smiling again. “Okay, what about we get some water?”

“Who are you? My mother?” You furrowed your brows and crossed your arms. “Let me be, Jax.”

“I promised to take care of you, (Y/N).” Jax arched his brow and put one of his hands on your shoulder. 

You took another glance at Peter and the girl, noticing that she was kind of grinding against him and her skirt was ridding up, showing a bit of her round ass, and you thought that you were too drunk for that. Looking back at Jax, you saw his pearl whites showing up and grabbed his wrist.

“Hey, what are you—”

“ _Going to my room, dummy_.” You looked over your shoulder and gave him a smirk, drowning another cup that you found along the way to the corridor.

Opening your door, you pulled the boy inside and grabbed him by the collar of his jacket, attacking his lips immediately, but he leaned back quickly, surprised by your actions.

“ _(Y/N),_ you’re drunk, we shouldn’t—”

“I’m not that drunk, Jax.” You bit your lower lip and fixated your eyes on his mouth. “Stop complaining and _enjoy_.”

After a bit of thinking, the boy leaned into you and kissed your lips tenderly, his hands exploring your body while you tasted the beer on his mouth. You two fell on your bed and you let out a little, fainted laugh — like the fake ones you used to cover your real feelings.

His hands seemed rough, not like when you two used to date, but _wrong._ You felt violated, a failure to yourself and betraying the voice on the back of your mind, saying that it wasn’t the right thing to do. The alcohol spoke for you and your body was too numb to feel a anything, but your eyes accompanied all the touches and you felt _filthy._

And you did what you did best; you _pretended_ to like it.

* * *

The sun rays invaded your closed eyelids and warmed the skin of your cheeks. You slid your legs across the bed and grabbed the pillow tighter, yawning just slightly. The morning was like any other, tiring, lazy, but something seemed off, you felt colder, even if the covers were wrapped around your body. You sat up and ran a hand through your hair, watching the duvet fall from your chest and exposing it; _naked._

Then you remembered, the touches, the moans, the hands, the connection — _without connection, actually,_ and felt _grossness_ taking over you. Standing up, you searched for anything that you could wear and found a robe on the desk, putting it around your body and wrapping tight.

Deep sighing, you smelled the perfume that Jax wore last night on your pillows and panic started to rush through your veins, making your legs tremble and the temperature of your body drop. You threw all your pillows and took off the bed clothing, throwing it all on the floor and your breath pace was quicker than before. 

Sitting on the naked bed, you ran your hands on your hair again, trying to put it away from your face while you focused on taking deep breaths and stop trembling. Everything was numb again and you knew that it was your _own_ fault.

But something caught the corner of your eye and you looked at the dresser, finding a nice bouquet of flowers just sitting there. You stood up and walked slowly there, afraid of what you might find, and then, you saw the little yellow note.

“ _Thanks for last night. —Jax”_

Your vision was now blurry and the trembling came back, as the burning sensation on your cheeks that were now looking like red watercolors spreading to your whole face. A lump was forming in your throat and you let out a painful sob that you were holding since last night, while Jax’s rough fingers brushed against your delicate skin, like it was cutting the flesh like a sharp knife. 

The room started to seem smaller every second that passed and the walls were getting closer and closer, at the point where you felt trapped. You decided that you needed air immediately and ran to your window, pushing the curtains and being taken by surprise by a second note stuck to the glass, the one that made another sob escape your mouth and your fingernails to leave small crescents on your arm.

“ _I dropped by but you looked busy. —Spider-Man.”_


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

_You heard the knock on your window and a smile grew on your lips quickly, realizing that the hero kept his promise and showed up again. Turning around, you stood from your soft sheets and walked to the window, pushing up the glass and letting the hero enter the room. When both of his feet were on the carpet, he walked around for a bit, glancing at the pictures hanging on your wall for a little while and something inside your chest hurt again, just as last night._

_“You came back for my care?” You noticed the hero tripping on his own feet, caught of guard from your comment and giggled to yourself._

_“How could I not? I mean, my back is as good as new” he winked with one of his mechanic eyes and you rolled yours, sitting back on your bed and resting your body on the comfy pillows, sinking into the softness and almost closing your eyes from tiredness. “Are you alright?”_

_You frowned your brows and realized that he was talking about the way you looked so exhausted, so you gave him a small smile and crossed your arms on your chest to keep the cold that entered through the window away.“_

_Yeah, yeah, just tired from school and stuff.”  
_

_“Harsh day?” He asked and you nodded, letting out a deep sigh from your nose. “Okay, so it’s my turn now, I see.”_

_You twitched your mouth, confused by his words and watched the hero coming closer and sitting just beside your feet, crossing his covered legs and putting yours on his lap, running his gloved fingers on your skin until they reached your left foot, massaging it and making you throw your head back and let out a small moan of relaxation. “Oh god, this is awesome!”_

_“Anything for my favorite girl.” Your eyes widened at his words and the surprise turned into joy, now he earned a small smile from your lips, something he never thought he would see so soon._

* * *

“ _So, I was telling her that I wanted to eat chinese and she literally puked and I was so worried that I actually froze” you laughed hard and put another chip in your mouth, chewing it right away while little tears formed on the corner of your eyes. “And… and then I just asked her if she needed a towel.”_

_“This is the weirdest story I’ve ever heard!” The hero ate another chip and sighed deeply from all the previous laughing between you two.  
_

_You stared slightly at his chiseled chin, feeling relieved that he felt so comfortable around you at the point where he could lift his mask just above his nose to talk better or even eat. It started three days ago after his last visit and the feeling that still lingered on your back from those slim fingers that knew_ exactly _what they were doing, and Spider-Man decided that his new hang out place would be your room._

_So you two would sit on your bed, legs spread on the soft covers and eating fast-food or sometimes you felt like watching the night sky from your fire escape, leaning into the railings with your hands hanging in the air while the freezing breeze of a normal Queens night hit your nose almost as subtly as an atom wandering between particles._

_“Okay, so hear me out.” The hero stopped chewing dramatically and let out a deep sigh, throwing his body at the fluffy pillows behind him. “What if—”_

_“Oh no” you raised your hand, signaling for him to stop. “We played that enough.”  
_

_“Just one more!” The man behind the mask whined and you rolled your eyes, giving up and nodding against your will. “So, what if you were stuck in an island and you had to drink your own pee?”_

_“This is, by far, the most silly you ever came up with.” You laughed while biting another chip that cracked inside your mouth.  
_

_‘What if’ was a game that you created with Peter when you two were kids. It consisted on suggesting a bad scenario and having to put it into a scale of 1-10, being 1 the worst and 10 the best. Since Spider-Man came a lot, you decided that it would be nice to teach him the game, and he agreed, liking the idea very much — you didn’t understand his excitement for playing it, but it was alright — and somehow, you still felt like betraying Peter. After all that time._

* * *

_You didn’t know how Spider-Man looked like without the whole mask, but you could tell that he was probably furrowing his brows by the way his mechanic eyes moved._

_“I won, you can say it” you smile teasingly and put the cards down. “Admit that you suck.”  
_

_“I don’t! You cheated!” He cried and you laughed a bit more.  
_

_“No, I’m just awesome.” You started organizing the cards again and put them inside the little box. “Now you owe me a churro.”  
_

_“Well, (Y/N), if you want to go on a date with me, you just have to say the word and—” You interrupted him with a light punch on his chest and earned a small laugh coming from him._

_“You wish” rolling your eyes, you stood up and walked in the direction of your drawer, searching for a blanket to warm you both since that night was a bit colder.  
_

_“When are you going to unpack those boxes?” Spider-Man asked and you got caught off guard, dropping the blanket right away and bumping your elbow on a flower vase you kept there. It would have fallen if it wasn’t for the hero and his magic web-shooters. “Hey, be careful!”_

_You turned around, looking just over your shoulder to give him a sad smile and your gaze focused on the boxes just sitting there, accumulating dust._

_“I lied” you said, smiling sadly once more. “Those aren’t stuff I forgot to unpack; I just didn’t want to.”  
_

_“There’s nothing wrong with—”_

_“—Yes. There is” you interrupted him, placing the blanket around your shoulders and sighing as you sat down on the same spot on the bed you were sitting before. “Those are my mother’s stuff.”  
_

_Spider-Man opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but he kept quiet, hesitating. You licked your dry lips and started playing with the fabric of your pajama pants while biting the insides of your cheeks._

_“When she died, I had to come home and pack some of her stuff.” You started talking slowly, trying not to remember the painful memories of the apartment you grew up in almost empty. “She always wanted to donate her clothes but I was selfish and kept some of them. I just wanted to have her lavender scented shirts, so I could be close to her somehow.”  
_

_The hero stood there, quietly biting his lower lip and you felt the temperature of your body falling quickly, as if another crisis was going to happen right there. Your breathing started to get faster and the man in front of you seemed to notice the trembling hands, now holding you closer to his chest._

_You didn’t even process what was going on, you just rested your head there, keeping the sobs to yourself as you held tight to his suited body._

* * *

“ _Why are you always getting yourself in danger” you mumbled while cleaning the dry blood from the small cuts of his shoulder blades._

_The hero let out a breathy laugh and murmured an ‘ouch’ while you rubbed the alcohol-dipped-cotton against his skin softly._

_“If I don’t, who will?” He opened a small, corner smile and you swore you could melt right there.  
_

_After a while of receiving Spider-Man’s visits, more like three weeks, not missing even one day, you two grew comfortable around each other. He would always lift his mask just a bit over his nose and you would even stop caring of showing ‘presentable’, with no makeup at all and just in your pajamas with drawings of bunnies all over your pants — Clara hated them, but the hero seemed to love._

_“I hate it when you’re right” you said and stood a bit too close to his face, your gaze now focusing on his chapped lips while you put the red stained cotton away.  
_

_It was inevitable to not look at that halve of his face and not wonder how he looked like. You’ve tried to match that chin with the another halve but you never succeeded, and then, you decided to just enjoy the moments together and not caring about his secret identity — after all, it was secret for a reason._

_But after some of his visits, you two growing each one of them more closer to each other, made some butterflies appear inside your stomach whenever you got near him. Now, almost breathing the same air and lips just centimeters from colliding, you breathed in and came to your senses — Spider-Man was a great friend, you didn’t want to ruin that. Leaning back and looking away, you started playing with the hem of your shirt._

_“Hey, when are you going to tell me about those… hm… pictures” he asked, his voice dropping a tone and a familiar feeling invaded your body, but you brushed it away.  
_

_“W-What pictures?” You asked, already knowing the answer.  
_

_“The only ones on your wall” the hero said as if it was obvious, and it was.  
_

_“I already told you about them” you smiled and put a hand on his shoulder to show him how silly that idea was.  
_

_“Well, you told me about two of them.” The hero insisted and you bit your lower lip a bit too hard, freezing a bit while your gaze focused on the last picture.  
_

_Before, you wouldn’t tell him about Peter. You never felt too comfortable to talk about the boy you knew and it always took a long while to come out about your feelings from the past. You only told Clara after two years and a half of your friendship and Jax only knew because he overheard an conversation between you two, then you decided that it would be best if you explained the situation — it might have been a chance to put the past in the past._

_“What do you wanna know?” You asked, feeling that it was the right time.  
_

_The hero crossed his legs and let his arms hang on the sides of his body, clearly feeling a bit uncomfortable about something, but you decided not to pay too much attention to that._

_“Whatever you want to tell me” he said and smiled a bit, now warming your heart. It was like he knew exactly how to make you comfortable.  
_

_You breathed in and out for a bit, feeling that bit of pain inside your gut and trying to keep yourself together. You knew it was coming sometime, but you could never get prepared; even after all that time._

_“That’s Peter” you said and a small smile appeared on your face. “He was my best friend back in high school.”  
_

_Spider-Man was quieter than normal, acting a bit strange but nothing too big for you to ask._

_“What happened to him?”  
_

_“Life” you answered. “We grew apart and there was nothing that could be done to fix it.”  
_

_“H-How come?” Looking down, the hero asked as quietly as a whisper.  
_

_“Well… Peter had his secrets and I had mine.” You licked your lips again, feeling the pain in your gut getting more intense, so you just focused on your breathing. “One day, he was there, the other, he wasn’t. And I just couldn’t stand to watch him always leaving.”  
_

_“So… What happened?”  
_

_“Here comes the silly part, be prepared” you warned with a simple laugh that didn’t seem to convince him. “I liked Peter more than friends. When I confessed to him, it was the last drop and he just disappeared from my life.”  
_

_After saying that out loud, you realized how much pain you were keeping to yourself and how unhealthy that was to your mental state. Spider-Man seemed to be in a fight with his own mind while you said those words, so you gave him time to process everything._

_“Do you miss him?” He asked and you got caught off guard again.  
_

_“Yes.” You said without even thinking, as if the answer was on the tip of your tongue all the time, just waiting to come out. “When… When I was with my mother at her last moments, I wished he was around. It’s dumb but… I guess holding his hand would be a great support.”  
_

_A gasp was heard from the hero’s mouth and he jumped out of the bed, his legs and arms trembling quite a bit while you watched him carefully, trying to understand what was going on._

_“I’m—I’m sorry” he said, his breathing echoing between the walls. “I have to go.”_

_You stood up and tried to talk to him, to hold his hand, but when your fingers brushed against his covered ones, he shook his hand and ran to your window, disappearing from the railing and between the big bricks buildings.  
_

_After that, you didn’t see Spider-Man. Until the night after the party._

* * *

You woke up covered in sweat and trembling fingers. The room seemed smaller than when it was when you went to sleep and the ceiling looked lower than before, giving you a bit of claustrophobia. Your throat went suddenly dry and incredibly shut together, so you jumped out of your bed and ran to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and drinking until the last drop. You let out a sigh when you were finished and saw Clara sitting on the sofa, her eyes focused on you while she sipped on her cup of coffee.

“Are you okay?” She asked and you tried the best impression of a smile and put the bottle on the sink.

“Yeah, yeah, just thirsty… I think the heater broke.”

“Really?” The girl furrowed her brows and put the mug between her lips again. “It’s funny, because you have always been a winter person.”

“People change” you said before leaving the kitchen and going back to the hallway.

After some nights of waking up covered in sweat even though it was cold as hell, she started noticing that something was wrong, and asked you countless times before, but you never felt too comfortable to tell her about your _crisis._ She has never been through things like that, so she wouldn’t know; and you had Spider-Man to vent to.

_Well, ‘_ had’ was a keyword. 

Thinking about the note he left on your window made you start trembling again, so you tried to send the thought away, entering the bathroom and undressing to get into a nice and warm shower. You turned the water on and put your fingertips under the flow to test the temperature, entering when it was nice and letting the drops of hot water slide between your shoulders, relaxing you immediately. You washed your hair quickly and rubbed your face, closing your eyes for just an instant.

It was your biggest regret at that moment, since whenever you closed your eyes, you could see clearly the figure of Jax above you, moving forward and back while the messy hair hung on his forehead. You felt gross again, feeling the rough fingers running down your arms and torso, so you started to scrub the area with your soap. 

You felt his nails gripping your waist again, so you moved your hands there and rubbed harshly on your skin, not even thinking about the pain that it was causing from applying such force against your sensitive body. But the way that Jax looked at you, his breath fanning against your face and his sloppy kisses going down your neck to your collarbones made _sick_ , a failure to yourself.

Then, without noticing, you were sitting on the floor, under the water that rushed down and collided with your body. You started to hyperventilate and turned the shower off, jumping out the box and searching through the drawers under the sink with hurry, your shaking hands being an obstacle to find the little tube that you kept hidden on the back of your cabinet. 

You grabbed the little orange bottle and opened the lid, grabbing one of those pills and drowning it with water from the sink. Sitting down on the floor again, you waited for the medicine to kick in just for a bit, so you could grab a towel and dry your wet hair that made your whole body feel colder again.

When your hands were shaking less and less, you sighed a few times and tried the breathing exercise that your mom taught you before, feeling a little calmer, so you whispered to yourself;

“ _You are okay. You are fine.”_

With that, you stood up and slowly grabbed a towel to dry your body and hair, noticing the new red marks you just made from all the scrubbing, covering your body so you could go and put some clothes one. You chose an beige sweater and jeans, putting on a red hoodie and a denim jacked to protect from the cold New York breeze. Putting your sneakers, you grabbed your scarf and blew your hair quickly, knowing that you would be late for class if you didn’t leave soon.

When you walked to the kitchen again to grab coffee, there wasn’t any left. Clara wasn’t there, but she put a note on the fridge saying that Harry gave her a ride and apologized for not leaving any coffee for you, making you laugh a little. You just searched for a granola bar to eat on the way.

* * *

The train was pretty empty, so you had a quiet trip until you got to the University. When you arrived, you just jumped out of the wagon and walked to the campus, noticing you had some free time until your first class started, so dropping by the campus café seemed like a nice idea.

You looked above while walking, watching the muggy weather and the naked trees shaking slightly with the breezed that crossed paths with the day. You remembered the nights with the infamous hero where you two would lean against the railing and sneezing a lot because of the cold and the same breeze blowing around by Mother Nature _— nice thoughts, if only it wasn’t for your screw up._

Pushing the glass doors, you entered the place and your nostrils immediately caught the vanilla and cinnamon scent that wandered around the tables. You looked between the tables and saw only a few people sitting there, enjoying their drinks and food, and your stomach begged for something, even though your mind knew that the probability of you throwing up everything that came down your throat was _big._

But you went to the counter, not minding the warnings of your mind and ordering a double expresso and an oat muffin.

_“_ (Y/N)!” You heard someone call your name and searched for the voice.

You saw Clara sitting there with Harry by her side, both of them with hot cocoas between their hands. You smiled and waved back, approaching the couple and saluting them quietly, receiving smiles from both of them.

“Please, be our guest” she said, playfully and you placed your plate and cup of coffee on the table, joining them. 

You took a moment to analyze Harry and almost rolled your eyes to yourself _— not because he was a bad person, no_ _—_ because of his good looks and the aura that almost screamed ‘perfection’ whenever you saw him. He always had his hair slicked back perfectly, not even a lock out of place and clothes looking fresh out of laundry, plus the expensive cologne he always wore. You and Clara joked about him being a sugar daddy, but you knew how much she liked him.

“So… We were just talking about the party.” Clara said and your body froze again, knowing that the question would pop up anytime soon. “Harry loved my bartender skills.”

“Did I?” He asked and she playfully punched him on the chest. 

“She always does that” you said, smiling. “Throws the bottles up and thinks that she’s _the_ bartender.”

“I already got the listening skills” the girl defends herself and you two laugh a bit while you sip on your coffee.

Harry rolled his eyes and sipped on his drink, licking the droplets of hot cocoa on his lips and stared at his girlfriend. “But she made cheap wine taste nice, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m Italian, baby. That’s my job” the girl winked and you fell into laughter again. “But, hey, (Y/N), you disappeared at the end of the party. Where were you?” _There._

That moment, everything that was far from your mind came into the light once more. You sighed and did what you always did best; _pretended to be okay._

_“_ I was just tired” you said with a nice smile. “I went to bed early.” _It wasn’t a total lie._

“Oh, right. I’m sorry, it’s my fault” she said and twitched her lip. “I never told you that I was throwing that party and _—”_

Clara was interrupted by Harry’s phone that went off and he grabbed it almost immediately, catching both of your attention. 

“ _No, Pete, are you sure?”_ He said and his brows furrowed, making you regret being worried. 

You knew that he was talking to Peter, but you didn’t want to give too much attention to that. You sighed _— at least Peter was the only one not involved in your big mess._

_“Okay, I’ll do it.”_ Harry licked his lips and turned his phone off. “Sometimes I don’t get Peter.”

“What happened now?” Clara asked and you pretended not to be interested, eating your muffin quietly, feeling the same pain that grew inside you whenever you heard his name.

“He broke up with his girlfriend” said the boy and you chocked on the piece you were chewing. 

Both their attentions fell on you, so, while blushing, you waved it off and sipped on your coffee to down that piece of muffin stuck on your throat, coughing hysterically. 

“Well, is he sad? We could grab a croissant for him.” Clara suggested and her boyfriend bit his lip.

“Actually, he’s more than fine. He was never serious about that girl.” Harry said and you felt the pain go away. “He’s just staying in today because his classes got cancelled.”

Before Clara could say anything else, the sound of sirens grew on the background, making you turn your head to the big windows and watch as police cars and firemen run down the street, to the direction of the big old building that was used as a library before, but now was just empty.

Everyone around you stood up to see what was going on, and then the news channel got a bit louder since the barista turned the volume on. You focused on the small TV and watched carefully the images of a bomb; _a bomb_ , and then you heard an explosion, looking at the old building and seeing that it had just turned into ashes in a question of seconds.

Clara gasped and Harry stood up, grabbing her hand.

“Let’s get out of here” he said and looked at you, seeing that you were stunned by the scene right across the street and the big orange flames eating down the old library. “C’mon, (Y/N), we need to get safe.”

“You two go, I’m… I’m right behind you” you said and watched them both leaving the café, as everyone else. 

_No_ , it wasn’t like the movies, the explosion wasn’t that big and there wasn’t a lot of hysteric people screaming and running around with their hands in the air; but it was _similar,_ and scary as fuck. You watched as the baristas left the place, screaming for you to save yourself, but you didn’t listen, stunned by the windows and trying to find Spider-Man between the bricks that fell from the walls, or even his red and blue suit raising from the flames.

Nothing made sense to you until the moment that a big piece of wall came in your way, ready to smash you and crush the glass windows that you stood in front of, so you acted by adrenaline that rushed inside your veins and hid inside the restroom, closing the door and sitting on the floor, listening carefully to the sound of glass breaking and more screaming. 

Your trembling hand came to your mouth to kept you from crying or screaming _— you didn’t even know what you were doing anymore._ Trying to control your breathing, you closed your eyes and a big clash that was accompanied by a high sound and pieces of the ceiling falling on the floor made you let out a scream and hide under the sink.

Then, you saw the infamous red and blue suit right in front of you, just staring into your soul with the big mechanic eyes while you felt like your chest was going to explode from all the hyperventilation, so you grabbed your knees closer to your body and stared back, trying to say something, _anything,_ and hoping he would do the same.

But the hero only grabbed you and shoot his web from behind the building, swinging quickly on the air, not even giving you time to process everything that was going on, just placing you on the grass and staring a bit more. You wished he wouldn’t say anything now, knowing that _anything_ would make the situation even worse, and you weren’t prepared to hear.

However, when you watched the hero leave back to his battle, you felt that _anything_ would be better than his torturous silence.


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

It took time for you to process everything that happened in the last three minutes. You stood there, on the middle of the grass that tickled slightly your leg through the hem of your jeans, looking at the old library and watching as Spider-Man fought some flying guys that shot lasers guns at him. Your chest was tighter than before and your hands started to tremble again. _Not now, please._

_“(Y/N)!”_ Screamed Clara as she grabbed your arm from behind. “What the fuck are you still doing here?!”

You looked at her, your breath quickening and your fingertips uncontrollable as your mouth stood half open, hesitating to say anything at all.

“C’mon, let’s go back to the apartment” she said, pulling you with her as the girl walked fast to the campus direction. Your eyes never left the frame of Spider-Man swinging in the air and shooting webs at his enemies.

But while your eyes were there, your mind was too busy replaying the scene of the hero standing in front of you, _emotionless —_ you were pretty sure of that _—_ and the hurtful silence that spoke more than words ever could.

* * *

You kept your knees closer to your chest in an attempt of feeling safe. It was a feeling that you never got to experience so much through your whole life _— not from the outside neither from your inside —_ and Clara walked through the door, holding a hot mug of chamomile tea between her hands. She blew the vapor that danced above the surface and smiled at you, sitting on the corner of the bed and watching you with careful eyes.

“Are you feeling any better?” She asked and put her hand on the top of your feet, warming them with the heat of her skin. 

You nodded and gave her a small, reassuring smile, sipping on the tea. After you told your friend what happened, she decided that you needed special care for the rest of the day, helping you however she could. The girl’s eyes wandered around the room while you kept drinking slowly and tasting the pinch of cinnamon that she always put on hot beverages, something that she said that her family claimed to be a rule in their house.

“So… The Parker guy is single now” she said, trying to take your mind off the recent events, aware that you could get even more nervous. 

The tea burned your throat as she spoke the name ‘Parker’ making a quick cough leave your mouth as you lifted your eyes, looking at her and licking the cinnamon of your lips. 

“Yeah, I heard.” You tried not to sound too shaken about the news, but Clara was a little shit and knew whenever you lied. “Not that it changes anything in my life.”

“Don’t you think that you should leave that stuff in the past?” She said and furrowed her brows together, looking at the picture that hung on the wall. “I mean, that was so long ago and _—”_

“ _—_ It was for the best, Clara.” You said and sipped again, almost finishing the tea and already feeling the calmness running through your veins. “He was immature and I changed and _—”_

_“What makes you think that he didn’t change too?”_ She asked, her sly tongue caught you off guard immediately, making you almost choke on the tea once more.

You always knew what to say, and everyone around you knew that. _Never to mess with (Y/N), she’ll destroy you with her words._ But that moment, you found yourself speechless and _hear me out_ , it was worse than the burned tongue you got. 

_“_ I-I don’t… I never thought that way.” You said almost in a whisper, ashamed of yourself, biting your lower lip.

“I think you should give him another chance. It was three years ago, time to move on” she pressed her lips together, tapping your right foot slightly and taking the empty mug from your hands before leaving the room.

You knew that Clara was right, and that was what made you angrier than not knowing. You just couldn’t forget the expression stamped on his face when you told him that you liked him _— in a ‘more then friends’ way —_ and how he just shook his hand and said that he couldn’t do that to you, leaving the empty hallways of Midtown and simultaneously leaving your life. 

You had it coming, and you avoided that moment at all costs; but when you stopped seeing Peter as a friend and as something more than that, you knew that it was closer than you wanted it to be. _You should’ve been alert for the signs,_ him leaving study sessions earlier, him not letting you know how he got those bruises on his whole body, him not being there _at all._

_And you needed to know; you needed to know if he would be there._

Even though it was an old wound, still felt as fresh whenever you heard his name or saw his photos, and bled whenever you _saw_ him, since you weren’t still prepared for that moment. You missed Peter being your life, not the idea of him _— the idea of him holding you close and kissing you with warm lips —_ but who he was, to you and to the world. You missed the movies marathons with Ned and gym classes being silly and late nights deep talks that always led to you two sleeping next to each other. 

It would always feel like there was blood in the cut, infinite, flowing through your skin and staining your soul.

You missed your ex-best friend. _And you always would._

You sighed slowly, still tasting the cinnamon on the tip of your tongue and looked around the room, your eyes finding those same old pictures that you always stared at whenever you felt your body getting shakier, and then you stopped your gaze at your mother’s face, watching how serene she looked there, smiling by the late and her arm hanging loosely around your shoulder _— you almost could feel her touch again for a moment._

Little tears started to form on the corner of your eyes, and you wiped them quickly with the sleeves of your knitted sweater. Your mother would always say nice things about Peter, and no matter how you would deny that there was a sparkle of something more in your friendship, she _knew_ _—_ how could she _not?_ She was the one sitting on the sofa and watching you two with glowing eyes and hearts melting together as you laughed about the silliest stuff.

And she was the one to watch you fading from yourself, the smiles you got when you got home after a long walk with Peter by your side weren’t there anymore. She was the one to hold you after long nights with no sleep and hearing you cry because you two were apart. She had to watch you suffer for so long, even on her last moments, when you were asleep by her side, muttering things in your sleep, the name of the boy never leaving your mouth.

But you would never know more than that night when she held your hand and looked deep into your eyes, her bald head shining from the lamp light that comforted you two on the darkest days and the veins under her eyes so visible that made the exhaustion even more noticeable, and she would tell you to make amends with Peter, because she _knew._ She _knew_ how good you two were to each other. And mostly, she _knew_ that when she was to leave, you would need more support than ever.

The tears were running down your cheeks and you didn’t notice, too focused on your own thoughts to feel the burning feeling and the lump forming inside your throat, the tea almost coming back through the tubes. You looked down at those well-packed boxes accumulating dust and the words written with a black marker turning to the wall, so you couldn’t see the written ‘mom’s stuff’. 

* * *

You rolled your head side to side, trying to massage your hurting shoulders that were a consequence of the position you slept the night before, while looking at the board in front of you. A small paper with exams scores hung there, showing you what you wanted to see, and how your name was on top, signaling that you aced it. Your professor left the room and gave you a rushed compliment, leaving the room and you decided to leave right after, walking through the hallways.

One of your classmates was by the library door and you stopped by to greet her, starting small talk when you heard your name being called not too far from where you were standing. You turned around and saw Jax approaching you two, and the girl you were talking with gave you a small smile, leaving to give you two privacy. 

“Oh, hi” you said with a small but shy smile. You were still too ashamed of yourself to engage in conversation with the boy. 

“Hey” he said, smiling from the corner of his mouth and rubbing his arm. “I haven’t seen you since the party.”

“Yeah… I’ve been busy” adjusting your bag on your shoulder, you looked down a bit, trying to avoid his gaze.

The blonde’s presence gave you chills _— not the good ones —_ and you were thinking about ways to get out of there without offending him.

“Well, it was _fun”_ he admitted, licking his lips and crossing his arms over his jean jacket. “We could do that again sometime.”

You froze and felt your legs go numb, your mind rushing everywhere but where it was supposed to be. You tried to slow your breathing but it was no use.

“I-I don’t think so.” With a small smile, you tried to leave, but his big hand grabbed your wrist, making you stay.

“ _W-Why?”_ He asked with his face dropping the smirk, now confusion flooding through his eyes. 

You sighed and freed your wrist from his grip, caressing the area and looking at your shoes. Memories from you rubbing your skin with such force came to your mind and you felt sick. “I just don’t want to. I’m sorry.”

Turning around, you walked a few steps until you were stopped once more, his fingers lacing around the same wrist and you turned again, brows furrowed and a sad expression adorning your face.

“ _Jax…”_

_“No!”_ His voice got a tone higher, making your eyes widen from the surprise. “You _—_ You don’t get to do that to _me!_ ”

Now you felt rage rushing through your veins, making every bit of your body tremble from the nervous feeling that completely dominated you. However, you managed to keep your calm.

“You need to understand, Jax. I don’t want that anymore.” You said calmly, trying to free your wrist from his hand, but it didn’t succeed. “Now, please, let me go.”

The boy closed his expression and bit his lower lip, a new pain forming on the area of your wrist and you looked down, seeing his fingernails digging on your skin and burning with red crescents he was going to leave there.

“ _Jax!”_ You said. “You are _hurting_ me! _”._

The blonde raised your wrist and his face leaned down, his eyes leveled to yours and making everything seem scarier now. You gulped down, even though it was hard since your throat seemed tighter than ever. 

“ _Shut the fuck up!”_ He screamed, catching a few students that passed by attentions. Your eyes widened in fear and you tried to step back, but your body was frozen by the time. “Who do you think you are? You really think that anyone’s gonna love more than I do?”

You bit your lower lip and tried to free your wrist once more, not giving up.

“Who’s gonna love a fucking _cunt_ like you?” He asked and threw your wrist to the side, making you fall to the floor and the crowd forming around you guys gasped, no one doing anything. “You are such a _bi—”_

While you held your hurting wrist with your other hand, you heard a thump on the floor and saw Jax laying on his back, groaning from pain. You looked up, confused, and saw something that you never imagined you would see _—_ Peter was standing in front of where the blonde was, shaking his hand in the air and his knuckles red from the punch. 

Then, his brown eyes fell to you, rushing to your direction and crouching down to help you get up, his hands resting on your shoulders and a worried look plastered all over his face, eyes too distracted from injuries you might have had gotten from the other boy. 

“Are you okay?” He asked and you nodded, too speechless to even react. 

For a moment, you watched Peter’s hand going up to your face, his fingers barely brushing against the skin of your cheeks and his wooden orbs slowly dropping to your lips, making shivers run down your spine and a warm feeling flood inside your body. You almost closed your eyes, waiting for his touch to feel real when you heard something next to you, you both turning your heads, but it was too late;

_Jax’s fist was already in contact with your face._

The last thing you could hear was the blonde completely scared, claiming that he aimed for the other and Peter screaming ‘ _son of a b-”_ and then, your body gave out, your eyes shutting completely and darkness reaching your vision.

* * *

“ _He’s suspended?!”_ Clara yelled-whispered. “ _Why? He was defending her! The other fucker should’ve been expelled!”_

You groaned and slid your hands on the bed, feeling the soft covers under your fingertips and a burning pain on your right cheek and over your shoulders. Opening your eyes slowly, you saw your roommate walking side to side, her phone glued to her ear and a angry look on her face.

“ _Okay, keep me posted. Love you!”_ She said as she hung up, her eyes falling on you and a relieved sigh leaving her mouth as she got closer to you. “Oh, gosh, (Y/N), how are you feeling?”

You looked around, a bit confused of what happened and tried to sit on your bed, the pain a bit too harsh on you and your mouth twisting from the effort. 

“I’m… _fine?”_ You licked your lips, letting out a small groan when your back found the soft cushions. “Ouch, my back hurts.”

“Yeah, you took quite a fall back there” she said and giggled a bit, the worried look never leaving her face.

“ _Fall?”_ You asked, confused about what was going on.

_“_ You don’t remember?” She furrowed her brows. “Jax pushed you and punched your face.”

_Oh gosh,_ you thought to yourself, trying to convince yourself otherwise, but then the memories from the fight came into your mind, happening right in front of your eyes as your back screamed in pain once more, so you adjusted your position.

“ _Oh”_ was all you could say.

Clara sat by your side, her legs crossed as she looked at you and pulled back her hazel locks into a ponytail, a smirk forming on her lips. “Then Peter beat the shit out of Jax.”

Now you were even more surprised as the chills dominated your whole body, a sensation of _odd_ warmth wrapped around you and your pain seemed to fade away for a moment.

“ _P-Peter?”_ You remembered him being there and helping you, but you couldn’t remember the part where he would do such a thing. “Is he okay?”

“He got suspended after that, so he brought you here.” She explained and your eyes widened even more, if it was possible. 

You were speechless for the third time only that week, what it was pretty strange for you, so Clara stood from where she was standing and walked over you, kissing your forehead slightly and caressing your hair for a moment. 

“I’ll leave you to process everything.” She said and walked over the door. “Harry is waiting for me outside, call me if you need anything!”

And she left you there, trying to replay the scene in your mind, to remember even the small bits, and each time you did, more warmth rushed inside your veins, making you feel more comfortable than ever _— a feeling you almost forgot about._

You caught a glimpse on the mirror that hung by your bedside and saw the purple bruise under your cheekbone and a cut on your lower lip, making you touch the place just to feel if it was hurting. For your own surprise, it wasn’t hurting _that_ much, but still.

But after a consistent minutes of thinking, you heard a small knock on your window, making you more curious about what it was. _Could it be? No, he’s still mad… Right?_

You walked to the window and stopped there, another surprise to you that day _—_ w _hat a day, folks —_ joy rushing now inside your veins, and there was the hero, standing there balancing himself with a bag of pastries that smelled _pretty good_ and a small bouquet of almost dead flowersand a small note on his other hand, a messy handwriting that scribbled ‘ _I’m sorry’._


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

You never thought that you would be so happy to smell fresh cinnamon rolls and daisies, but when Spider-Man appeared on your window, holding the combination of both and the “I’m sorry” note, you couldn’t help but smile eye to eye, running to the window and pushing the glass up to let the hero slide inside your room. 

The man dropped the bag and the note to your desk and held the bouquet for you to grab, and you looked between his frame and the fresh daisies wrapped around newspaper pages and you grabbed them, quickly putting them next to the bag of pastries and jumped into the hero’s arms, holding his back with all the energy you had inside your body.

Spider-Man was caught off guard, but didn’t give a second thought to hold you back. His gloved hands sneaked around your waist, holding your body close to his, so you could rest your head against his chest and feel the thumping of his beating heart, so warm against your neck.

“ _I missed you”_ you whispered, muffled against the material of his suit, but he gave you a breathy laugh, and one of his hands climbed up your spine, resting just on the nape of your neck, wrapping around little hairs that grew there. 

“I’m so sorry _—(Y/N),_ I’m sorry…” he stuttered the words and took one of his hands off your body to roll up his mask to his nose, allowing him to talk properly, no distance between your words.

You smiled sadly and leaned a bit back, just so you could glance at his lips quickly and look back at your socks. “It was my fault _—”_

 _“No!”_ Spider-Man cut you and his hands held you tighter as reassurance, his fingers sneaking under your chin to make you look up to his mechanic eyes. Even though you couldn’t see the real color of his orbs or what they looked like, you were content enough to know that he could see yours. _It didn’t matter. “_ You don’t get to apologize. It was _my_ fault. I was the childish one and couldn’t understand that _—that_ you… _with_ him _—”_

You cupped his cheek with one of your palms and tried to make his face leveled to yours, trying to not avoid the contact that you ran away for too long already and were tired of that infinite moves. Giving him a small smile, you leaned closer to him, so he could hear you whispering quietly, almost silent, allowing both of you to hear the horns and movements outside the window. 

“ _I don’t want him.”_ You admitted to him and to yourself, lowering your eyes to his thin lips and imagining a thousand of outcomes for how that moment could continue. 

But when Spider-Man ran his tongue against his dry lips _— oh god —_ it drove you _crazy._

 _“Hm… the—_ the cinnamon rolls are going to be cold” he said, biting his lower lip slowly, almost as if he was trying to control himself. _Let go, Spidey. “_ S-So, we should eat them.”

You nodded and left his arms, feeling a bit annoyed for his rejection, but shaking it off quickly _—_ he was right for acting like that. After all, you _did sleep_ with Jax, and he _probably_ saw that. Sighing, you climbed on your bed and patted the spot next to you and Spider-Man grabbed the bag before sitting next to you.

Adjusting the pillows behind you, you threw yourself on one of them and the man did the same, laughing lightly as he offered you one of the cinnamon rolls that you took and bit the edge, savoring it the amazing taste of the glazed sugar on top. 

“ _Oh god”_ you moaned while chewing. “ _Where_ did you get this?”

“The bakery down the street” he said, biting his own and letting a bit of cinnamon powder staining his cheek. You smiled and leaned in to clean it quickly with your thumb and sucked on it, tasting the sweet taste and came back to your own roll, leaving the man to blush just a bit. _Just a bit._

 _“_ I’ll be definitely checking it out then.” You said as you kept eating.

Suddenly, an annoying silence stabilized around you and made you feel anxious. You both haven’t talked about the _incidents_ yet, and it all made your chest pain a tad while you kept looking down to your roll and cinnamon stained fingers. The hero arched his legs and the movement alarmed you, making you jump a bit and a quick laugh left his mouth.

“We should _talk”_ you shoot, making him choke with the laugh still inside his throat. 

“A-About what?”

“You know what” you said and turned on the bed to face him, crossing your legs under you as you licked the rest of cinnamon on your lips. “The… _hm… things_ that happened.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if we just forget about it?” He asked, biting his lip again. _Stop doing that._

 _“_ I don’t think so. It’s unhealthy to keep pushing things away” you said and finished your cinnamon roll, now licking your fingers. “Believe me, I know _all_ about it.”

“Okay then” he agreed, finishing his own food and put his hands aside, turning to be in front of you too. “How should we start?”

“From the beginning” holding your legs closer to your chest, you looked away, thinking about everything that happened. “ _Hm…_ Why did you leave that day?”

Spider-Man sighed and lowered his head as you kept watching the movements of his chest quickening in union of his breathing. 

“I _can’t_ tell you” he said and made you arch your brows.

“That won’t work if we can’t be honest to each other” you spat a bit too harsh and made the man flinch just a bit. “C’mon, Spidey. We have to _talk_ in order to talk.”

“I’ll answer everything else, just not this one, okay?” The man’s hand slid on the covers, finding yours and interlacing the fingers, reassuring you that everything was okay, so, against your will, you nodded and _let go. “_ Just not yet.”

Biting your lower lip, you avoided his gaze because you knew you were blushing. “Then… were you mad at me when I was with… _him?”_

 _“Yes.”_ He said too quick, almost as if the answer was waiting to be thrown all that long. You flinched a bit but then felt his thumb running against your skin and his fingers holding yours tighter, making you a little confused about what was happening there. “But I understood.”

“No, you didn’t” you said, too ashamed to look him in the eyes and let out a dry laugh. “Even I didn’t.”

“Then… _why?”_

 _“_ Because I was hurt” you sighed again. “ _Hurt, drunk, confused. He_ was there.”

“Who?”

You looked up just to meet his mechanic eyes, but his lips were forming a thin line, almost as if he was just as tense as you were. “ _Peter.”_

Spider-Man choke on his breath and let out a gasp, sounding a bit too surprised for a situation that he wasn’t even familiar with. 

“B-but, what was the problem?” He asked.

How could you say that without hurting Spider-Man’s feelings? He always acted like he liked you more than just a company, and you could feel the deep connection that you two shared, but _was it true?_ Did he _really_ liked you or was just your mind playing _tricks?_

 _I promised to be honest,_ you thought to yourself. _Here goes nothing._

“Because _—_ seeing him there, with _a girl_ _—_ I just realized that the feelings never _faded_ how I thought they did.” You said quickly and looked up to see if the man was too hurt by your words, but something on his _half-_ expression almost looked as if he was… _happy? “_ Then, Jax was there and I did dumb stuff with him. I guess that was the moment where you came by my window.”

“At least I came before his jeans were off. I bet he looked _disgusting_ in briefs _”_ said him and you laughed, pushing him lightly and surprised by the fact that his hand was still holding yours. “I’m sure I look _much_ better.”

Blushing again, you avoided his comment. “ _Well,_ if it makes you feel any better, he literally punched me earlier today.”

“ _I know”_ he said in a mutter that you didn’t hear. “I mean, _what?! How?”_

 _“_ He was actually going to punch Peter, but I was in the way, so I got the hit and passed out like a bitch.” You said as Spider-Man lifted his free hand to trace his covered fingers on the purple mark that Jax left on your face.

His pointer came closer to your lip and found the cut that you got from the fall, tracing over the dry blood and sighing as he did, looking disappointed. His thumb ran all over your bottom lip slowly and he gasped, your heart was almost breaking out the skin to fly away from your chest and anxiety rushed through your veins.

“ _Does it hurt?”_ He whispered and you shook your head, denying while kissing the tip of his thumb, looking up to meet his eyes. “ _Good.”_

With that, Spider-Man cupped your jaw and leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft motion, the silky feeling taking over your whole body as his touch grew hotter on your jaw. You put your hands on his chest, feeling the little thumps that fastened at the feeling of your fingertips resting right at that spot. 

You opened your lips just a bit so you could give space for his tongue to invade your mouth and caress yours, lowering his hands to your back so he could lean you onto the covers and hover over your body, finding space between your legs to fit in like a puzzle, _and he did,_ as if it was meant to be that way. You smiled against the kiss and let out a small gasp when his hands started to play with the hem of your shirt.

Putting your arms up in a small motion, you let him take your shirt off and his mouth started to lower and lower, finding your collarbones and leaving sloppy kisses all over the area, finding your breasts right after, kissing over your bra, but you still felt the chills run down your spine and little moans left your mouth as breathy cries while his skilled and passionate lips left their mark on your body.

_It was like he wanted to claim you his._

He found the way to your lips again, playing with your bottom lip while you wrapped your legs on his back, turning around so you could be on top of his suited body. Smiling, hungrily, you leaned down once more and cupped his jaw, making the man stand on his elbows as you leaded the kisses that time, running your tongue against his bottom teeth and rubbing noses every now and then. 

But it all went down when your hands reached _— involuntarily —_ for the hem of his mask, starting to roll up to feel more of his cheeks and curls that escaped the fabric. His hand grabbed your wrist lightly, stopping you.

“ _Sorry”_ you said, laughing to yourself. “I’ve got a bit carried on.”

You tried to lean into him again, but he leaned back, avoiding your eyes.

“W-We _shouldn’t.”_ He said, more to himself than to you. 

“W-What?”

He looked at your plump lips and shook his head, sneaking from under you, freeing himself from your arms and letting all the warmth that dominated your body feel colder instantly. 

“ _Hey,_ that’s okay” you tried to soothe the situation, crawling in his direction and lifting your hand to meet his, but he left the bed, standing up and watching you feel humiliated in your position, almost too guilty. _As if._

He rolled down his mask and left from the same window that he came in. You hoped he would say something, but he just left _again._

* * *

After a few hours that Spider-Man came, you still found yourself laying on your bed, staring at the boring ceiling and trying to replay the scene to find where it all went wrong. _Was he mad that you tried to take off his mask? Did he realized that it was a mistake? Did he not like it at all?_

The difference between Jax’s touches and Spider-Man’s ones was that you felt comfortable around the hero. You felt _intimate,_ and you knew that it wasn’t worth rubbing your skin until it was _red._

How could you give him up if it all felt so right? _How?_

Your eyes caught the boxes sitting on the corner and you sighed. Clara was with Harry, Spider-Man left again, Jax and you weren’t on the _best terms — or any terms at all_ _—_ and you didn’t have anyone to talk to that moment, so you decided that it was time.

_Time to grow a pair and open those boxes._

Running to the kitchen, you grabbed a knife and ran back to your room, shutting the door and kneeling on the floor, next to the first box and took a deep breath before raising up your shaky hand to cut the tape that held the box together.

_It’s time. It’s time, it’s time. Okay._

So you ripped the tape and pushed the edges open, looking at the folded clothes and other miscellaneous things that you packed from the empty apartment the day after her death. You felt the void inside your chest growing bigger at each thing you looked at, but you had to be strong and _do it._

You saw the knitted sweaters that your grandma made for her and she kept them all after her death _— too familiar, right? —_ and you grabbed them, putting each one of them on your bed and recognizing them all.

The green one she wore for the last time the day she bought you flowers to congratulate the highest score in your class; the beige one she wore for the last time when you two went to that shitty coffee shop and drank weak coffee; the red one she wore for the last time when you two had a girls night with lots of wine and kept giggling under the cold shower past midnight, making your neighbors angry. 

Then you saw the photo albums that she kept ever since you were a little girl, so you analyzed every one of them, staring at your chubby legs and ribbons that your grandma always put on your head and made your mother mad because they looked _ridiculous._ You even saw your Uncle Joe that died when you were five, but you had brief memories of him in your house, drinking beer and singing country songs.

You kept separating them while missing tears fell down your cheeks.

The other box had your mothers perfumes _— you decided to pack them even though most of them didn’t have perfume inside anymore._ You saw some of her earrings and necklaces that you adored to wear when you were little and make the hallway your catwalk. You remembered once when you wore messily her red lipstick and put her accessories on with one of her heels that was too big on your small child’s feet, and she caught you, but she wasn’t mad, she just laughed a lot and took pictures of you two.

You smiled at the memory, but kept looking at the other stuff, knowing that if it wasn’t know, it _never_ would happen again.

Growing up with only your mother made you two have a relationship closer than any other mother-daughter you met along your life. You two weren’t just relatives, but _best friends,_ and she was your anchor for the rest of your life, knowing what you felt always and you never understood where came her wisdom to solve your mysteries so quickly.

So when you opened the last box, you found some of her paintings and fake flowers that she insisted to have, since she couldn’t take care of real ones. But what intrigued you the most was the book that she always carried around on the back of the box. It was a small pocket book with a colorful cover and poems that she always said that it would be yours someday. Even at her last moments she had the book at the hospital nightstand.

You stopped looking at the other things and opened the small book, and as you did, a small note fell down and you grabbed it, reading the words written with her beautiful calligraphy. A few other tears escaped your eyes and you covered your mouth quickly, trying to avoid the sobs.

‘ _You’ll manage to find your own answers someday.”_

With that, you stopped everything you were doing and stood up, grabbing the red sweater and putting it on, changing from your pajama shorts to actual jeans and boots and grabbed your navy-blue coat, quickly putting your phone on your pockets and grabbing the keys to leave the place.

It was like your mother was still talking to you, even after her death. You knew what you had to do, and you decided that it had to be at that moment, to use the rest of courage you grew and the adrenaline that rushed in your veins. While you walked down the street, you cleaned the tears with the sleeves of your coat and grabbed your phone, dialing Clara quickly.

“ _Hey, is everything okay?”_ She said, hearing your rushed voice.

“Yeah, yeah” you reassured her, finding the way to the subway. “Is Peter with you guys?”

“ _No, he’s at his aunt. Why do you ask?”_ Her voice was confused, but you couldn’t turn back now.

“Nothing. Just curious. Bye” you turned the call off while hearing her ‘ _wait’_ but you chose to ignore them, just entering the next subway that arrived.

You remembered the address that May send you after the day she visited and climbed down the station that was the nearest, running to the apartment complex. You found it and quickly entered the place, taking the stairs to the fifth floor and finding the hallway. Checking on your phone for the apartment number, you looked around for number 518 and knocked twice, putting your hands inside your pockets to make them warmer.

Thumps were heard from the other side and you could swear that you heard May’s voice running to open the door. When she did, you stared at her and tried to smile, but instead, you fell down in tears.

_Shit, right now? Seriously?_

The woman didn’t hesitate to hold you into her arms, and you held her back tight, glancing over her shoulder to find something more interesting. 

Peter was there, frozen with a bowl of pasta between his hands while he stared at you holding May under the door frame. You let out a sigh and untangled your arms from the woman that already knew what was going on when she noticed her nephew behind her. She smiled sadly and he put the pasta bowl on the counter, approaching you and cupping your cheeks on his palms, looking deep inside your arms.

Somehow, that moment felt all too familiar, but you couldn’t answer why. You just enjoyed the nostalgic memories from Peter’s hands touching your cheeks. Closing your eyes, you leaned into his hands and felt his thumbs rubbing the tears away and pulling you closer to him, making your head rest against his chest while his own cheeks rested on your hairline. 

You felt his soft sweater caress your skin while your body grew warmer each centimeter you two eliminated. But Peter grew stiffer, and you didn’t notice that May was communicating with him between visual contact. 

The man leaned back and you could see his messy placed freckles all over his cheeks and nose and the curls falling down his forehead _— oh god, how much you wanted to run your hands between those cocoa locks._ He stared at you again, deep eyes finding yours as your lips parted a bit, too scared of what would happen next.

“I-I wanted to thank you” you said, stuttering between the sobs as he still calmed you down with his hot hands grabbing your shoulders.

“ _I need to tell you something”_ he said and you saw May leaving the room to give you privacy.

_Oh god._

You nodded and licked your lips, feeling your muscles growing tenser as you breathed deeply, preparing yourself to take in all he was going to say. 

But when he opened his mouth to talk, you heard sirens and trucks horns going off the window, so your eyes disconnected form his and you stared at the window. Peter’s figure was now stiffer and he grabbed your chin quickly, making you look into his eyes once more, but now, taking his hands off you and picking something up from his pocket. 

_Oh no._

Your eyes widened up while he raised his hand to open the mask to fit his head.

_Tell me it’s a beanie._

He put on the red mask and adjusted it onto his head, putting one of his hands on your cheek again and all the puzzle’s pieces fit right into the right place.

_How could I not notice?_

_“I’m sorry”_ he said as he sighed and ran to the window, grabbing a backpack that sat on the couch and jumping out. 

You felt your hands shaking and your body going numb, but you still managed to run to the window and leaning on the windowsill, looking down to see the boy you grew to love and grew up with swinging in the air, wearing the hero’s you were falling for suit.

May came from the hallways and crossed her arms, looking at you that were still leaning on the windowsill with a confused look all over your face. You turned around just to stare at her, still not processing what just happened.

“What the fuck”


	8. Chapter 8

Moments like that reminded you of others, like when you were just a little child running around with your chubby legs and was so scared of the monster that you claimed to live under your bed, or when you were in high school and fell down the stairs on your first day, so you locked yourself inside the bathroom’s cabins and cried your eyes out, or when the doctor told you that the chances of your mother surviving her cancer were lower than the Mariana Trench.

Your ears would seem useless because no sound would come in and your mind wouldn’t dare to process a thing, staying there, staring in blank at a random spot and your mouth would part so your screams would come out and the sobs would make you gag. Your stomach was twitching restlessly and an itch started to form on your temples where you ran your nails a thousand times before a pair of warm hands reached for your shoulders.

“ _It’s okay, dear, he will be okay.”_

* * *

“ _Have you seen Peter?” Your eyes fell into Ned’s ones, sensing uneasiness coming from him._

_Ned was right in front of his locker, putting some of his books inside and being careful to not let his action figures fall from the little division, adjusting little Han Solo’s arms as he closed the metal door._

_“N-No… Why?”  
_

_“I just have to tell him something” you said, smiling but not to him, at yourself, proud of your decisions.  
_

_“Holy shit, will you tell him that you_ like _him?!” Ned let out a screech and you became desperate, pushing him into the lockers and putting one of your hands over his mouth._

_“Hey! Shut up, I don’t want anyone to know that!” You said, putting a serious expression that softened right after, making you smile just at the thought of what you were planning on doing. That’s what feelings do to you. “But yes, I will.”_

_The boy shoot his hands up and started to make a little happy dance, earning weird gazes from students that passed by and caught him doing that. You just laughed to yourself, too focused on your own thoughts to even tease him about that._

_“Finally!” He said, a bit louder than you would like to.  
_

_“What are we celebrating?” Said the familiar voice from right behind you, making chills run down your spine and Ned to stop dancing right away.  
_

_“Oh, just that… (Y/N) saved a puppy yesterday.” Ned said and you furrowed your brows, but still, followed his lead.  
_

_“Yeah, yeah” you said, sweating cold because of your lie, too focused on how Peter’s hair looked so soft to even notice Ned leaving right after. The cocoa haired boy stared down the hallway and kept glancing at his wrist clock while you bit your lower lip, standing too awkwardly there to even say ‘hi’. “Hey, I was wondering if you—”_

_“Shoot! I have to go” he looked up from his clock and gave you a warm smile. “Stark internship.”  
_

_With that, you just stood there, with a fake smile on your lips as you watched him go. That wasn’t the first time, so you were okay with that._ Again.

* * *

You sat down, staring furiously at your mug and watching as the mint leaves mixed with the tea bag containing chamomile inside, your hands still trembled just slightly, not hard enough for you to see another trigger, so you stood there, trying to inhale and exhale calmly.

“Do you want milk with it?” Asked May, putting one of her hands on yours, making you flinch a bit from the touch. 

“N-No, it’s okay.” You said, letting out a loud sigh and looking up, finding her sweet bronze eyes directed at you. “… _Since—”_

“Since his freshmen year, a week before Ben’s death” she answered, as if she could read your expression just as before. “I discovered eight months after that.”

It didn’t make sense, he always had a lot on his to-do-list to have a spare time to be Spider-Man, but it _did_ make sense that he got so beaten up sometimes, and how his body changed from skinny to muscular by the summer, _or even before,_ you didn’t know anything anymore. 

“Are you okay with that?” You asked, taking a little sip of the tea and burning your tongue. “I mean _—It’s dangerous,_ it’s not safe for him to be around the city, fighting against aliens and… _and monsters,_ I don’t know, that kind of stuff, you _let_ him do that?”

May’s hand stiffened a bit when she heard the words, making her cross her arms under her chest and keep her eyes focused on yours, giving you a nice and calming, warm smile that already answered half of your questions. _How?_

“I _have_ to be.” She said, looking down for a moment and playing with her nails against the wooden surface of the counter. “I didn’t understand at first, but when I started to see that he wouldn’t stop, I _had_ to.”

“I don’t understand.” You shook your head, too confused. “I _—I_ don’t think I’m ready to process all that. Why he faded from my life and why he came back and _why the fuck_ he’s out there being an _fucking_ Avenger.”

The woman let out a small laugh as she bit her lower lip, thinking a bit before telling you anything else.

“He missed you, (Y/N).” She told you, her smile turning into a sad one. “It’s not my story to tell, but you should know that he _had_ a motive to end your friendship.”

You nodded. It was funny, a month before you wouldn’t even try to hear her out, saying stuff like that like she was spreading lies and not caring a bit about her feelings that were, _in fact,_ still there; but now, everything was different. Peter saved you, not once, but twice; once as his heroic identity and then, by himself.

And all those months, having that same feeling when you had Spider-Man in your room, the feeling of _familiarity,_ knowing that you had to _know_ him from somewhere. There was just something about the waves of comfort and nostalgic little things he would do like in the past; drumming his fingers on his thighs or to always burn his tongue with hot coffee, or the way he would eat gummy worms, eating all the red parts and leaving the yellow ones for you.

“If you want to, you can stay in his room” said the woman, snapping you out of your trance. “It’s the first door on the left. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind it.”

You gave her a small smile and grabbed the mug with you, walking down the little hall and pushing open the creaking door, being caught up from all those things that rounded you.

It was the first time in that apartment, since May said they moved a bit after you two broke your friendship, but the room looked the same as the previous one. Your curious eyes wandered around, looking at all those chemistry books and the DVD’s he kept from his uncle, containing Jurassic Park, Star Wars and some Law and Order’s seasons. You smiled to yourself when you saw the pictures he had hanging on his wall, being four of them, two of an article about Spider-Man, the other one being May, Ben and him all together in a park and the last one being you and him.

You remembered that moment when May took that picture; you two were sitting on the fire escape after eating half dozen of spring rolls each and laughing your asses off about nothing at all, enjoying each others company. So when May came in through the window with Ben’s old camera, asking for a photo of you two, Peter’s arm came around your shoulders, pulling you closer and you flinched a bit, too unfamiliar with the touch and heart melting inside.

* * *

“ _You look weird” you said, analyzing your best friends face while he kept erasing something on his notebook. “Wait, are you wearing_ makeup _?”_

_“No!” He said, rolling his eyes and staring down again. You noticed that the foundation he was using was starting to look brittle, so you licked your thumb and wiped the area under his left eye. “Hey! What are you doing?”_

“ _Aha!” You pointed out the remnants of foundation that stuck to your thumb and showed him, now arching your eyebrows while waiting for an answer. “So, now that I know you are_ lying, _will you tell me the truth?”_

_Peter looked up and you could see the purple-yellow-ish colors peeking through the natural skin, right at the spot you had just cleaned and his expression was serious, even a bit angrier than you thought he could ever be. You wouldn’t ask about the bruise again, because every time you did, he would get mad or change subjects, sometimes even leaving with a cheap excuse for where he got that from — or even whom._

_“Mind your own business, okay, (Y/N).” He spat, shaking his head and his focus went to the notebook, writing down new formulas you’ve never seen.  
_

_“Wow, okay” surprised, you started to grab some of your stuff and put them inside your bag, ready to leave the library when his slim fingers wrapped around your wrist slightly, making you calm down for a bit.  
_

_“I’m sorry” he said, looking up. The light hit his face quickly and you saw how big the bruise was, and how the colors swam around his eye and went to his cheekbones, so you flinched, worried. “I guess you can see the bruise.”  
_

_“When are you going to let me help you, Pete?” You asked, sitting down again and looking inside his auburn orbs, anxious for his reaction. His hand left your wrist, but you searched for it with your own fingers. “I’m worried about—”_

_“Don’t be” he said quietly, smiling softly at you and writing down some more chemistry stuff that you knew it wasn’t from class, since you didn’t know any of that.  
_

_“Is this how it’s going to be?” You furrowed your brows and leaned into his side, trying to make the space between you smaller, but he kept his distance, like a scared cat. “You will keep lying to me and to people that_ care _about you?”_

_“I’m not lying. I’m clumsy and you know that.”  
_

_“Bullshit” you shook your head, now putting your hand over his and caressing his skin with your thumb. “You are hiding something from me and it hurts. I trust you with all my heart, you should too!”  
_

_“Why does it hurt so much for you?” He arched one of his own brows, now staring at you. “It’s not important, it’s just stuff that I have to deal alone!”  
_

_“You shouldn’t have to—”_

_“Stop caring so much!”  
_

_“I can’t” you almost screamed, making him flinch at the tone of your voice and the librarian to shoot you angry gazes, so you calmed yourself down and let out a deep sigh. “I can’t, because… Because I—I love you.”_

_“I know, I love you too, but—”_

_“No, Peter” you managed to stare deep into his eyes, trying to find any sort of light in there while you said slow and clear: “I_ love _you.”_

_That moment was one of those that you already knew you would never forget. Peter stared back at you a few times, his brown and warm eyes almost too close for you to discover his darkest and deepest secrets and the freckles too clear in front of you, so you knew that you two were leaning into each other’s direction._

_But when his nose brushed against yours and his warm breath was fanning on your lips, he opened his eyes wider, staring at you for a bit and biting his lower lip — the habit he had when he wasn’t sure of something. So you waited for whatever was coming, knowing, already, that you wouldn’t like it._

_“I can’t do that” he said quietly, grabbing his stuff and putting them inside his bag in light-speed, ready to leave at any moment, and you just kept watching him, too focused on processing what came out from his mouth._ Oh no. “ _I’m sorry.”_

* * *

You found yourself asleep on Peter’s old bed when a tapping on the window echoed in your ears. At first, you brushed it off, turning on the other side and groaning from sleepiness, but then, your conscience alerted you about something you weren’t used to yet.

Jumping out of the bed, you ran to the window only to find Spider-Man there, his suit ripped in various places and blood drying out from his skin. A gasp left your mouth as you pushed the window open and grabbed his hands, trying to facilitate for him to come inside, but he stopped you before his fingers could touch yours and took off his mask, revealing his beautiful face and disheveled hair all covered in blood _— you didn’t even know if it was his._

 _“_ I guess we won’t need that anymore” he shook the mask between his fingers and fell inside the room, forming a thump when his body met the carpet and a loud groan left his mouth.

You started to feel your hands shaking again and your temperature falling, but your mind was bossing you around, trying to make the fear leave your body. _Not today, not today, not today._ With that, you crouched down next to him, lifting his head and placing it on your lap as you looked for the worst wounds.

May came to the room running, her breath already riffling as she pushed the door open, looking at her nephew on the floor and trying to inhale and exhale as much as possible, and so did you. She crouched right next to his right arm and pressed the webshooter, making the suit turn into a small red gadget that she put aside. _Stark’s stuff, of course._

 _“_ Is he alright?” You dared to ask, too scared of her answer to even look in her eyes.

However, the woman nodded (a bit of insecurities stuck on her action while she did) and stood right away, signaling the door.

“I’m going to grab the… the… _fuck,_ the stuff” she shook her head and ran down the hall again.

Your breath pace was quickening again and you felt _it_ coming, but your mind was doing a _hell_ of a job making it stay away. _Peter needs you right now._ Closing your eyes for a moment, you cupped his face, trying not to touch the cuts and his wounded nose while doing so, leaning down so your forehead could touch his, and you sighed.

But then, his groaning had stopped, and you thought he was passed out, but something inside your head told you to check his pulse, so you did.

_Nothing._

_Oh no._

_Holy fuck._

Your eyes grew wider and you started to feel _it_ coming again, but you shook your head, wiping a few tears that were blurring your vision and started to perform CPR on him, since it was the only thing you knew how to do.

“D-Don’t you dare dying on me, Peter.” You let out a small laugh that echoed inside the quiet room, filled by yours and his breathing only. “You still have a lot of explaining to do.”

You called May from the room and waited for her to come running again, her eyes growing big when she saw your hands pumping his heart and she put a hand on her mouth, making a screeched noise of crying being muffled by her palm. 

“ _Oh god”_ she said as a whisper, falling to her knees and pushing her hair out of her face.

And you wanted to do the same thing, or even wipe out the tears that kept forming on your eyes, but you knew that you had to keep moving, or Peter would be gone forever. Sobs left your throat and the burning sensation started to cramp your arms, but stopping wasn’t an option anymore.

You let out a scream as you kept pumping, hearing May’s sobs and your mind was travelling to diverse scenarios, being one of them, Peter’s death and the empty feeling inside your chest coming back _— or not, since it never left you fully._

 _“Pete, please”_ you cried, biting your lip until you could taste your own blood. You wondered why you couldn’t just forgive him in High-School and come back to being his friend, or why you avoided him at the university when you could spend more time with him; _why?_

It wasn’t fair, _at all,_ the Universe was just handing you Peter back and everything was going to be fine, so _why wasn’t it?_ You were there, pumping his heart to try to make him go back to life and whispering encouraging things not to him, but to yourself, so you wouldn’t have another attack and blow it all off.

_He depended on you, his life was in your hands._

And then, you felt something; a _beat._

* * *

May came back with a bucket of water and a towel on one hand and a first aid kit on the other and she sat down right next to you, offering the towel and the bucket to clean his cuts. She gave you the alcohol to clean them up and you started doing your job, hearing a groan from him every now and then.

“He’s conscious, just passed out, I guess” the brown-haired woman said quietly and you got the feeling that she was just trying to calm herself with those facts.

When all the cleaning was over, May started stitching him up and offered you another needle to help her with his chest cuts, and you accepted it, already knowing what to do since you took some first aid classes before. Peter was still passed out and you were praying with all of your forces for him not to wake up while the needle was still inside his skin.

Soon, it was all over and you helped the woman to put him on the bed, and you dressed him up with a nice sweater you found on his dresser and sweatpants, putting some socks to protect his feet from the chilly breeze that came from the window.

“I’ll _—I’ll give you privacy”_ said the woman as she smiled softly, placing a quick kiss on her nephew’s forehead and leaving the room.

You laid down right next to him, trying not to hurt his body any more and put one of his arms a bit up, so you could fit on his chest, touching right above his heart, where you knew there wasn’t any bruises that might hurt him more than he already was. 

Staring at his face, your mind took you to a tour to all the scenarios that you have thought while doing the CPR, and his pale face haunted you in all of those places you built with your own imagination. _He is here, he is breathing._ But you couldn’t stop looking at him or stay too far, scared that you would miss his heartbeats again and maybe _— maybe —_ he would die once more.

Long sighs left your mouth and you kept looking at his face, waiting for the moment when he would open his eyes and give you a small smile, just like the old times _—_ but it was taking longer than _old times._ You decided to stop counting his freckles when a long yawn came out of your throat and you were comfortable enough inside his arms. So you let the tiredness take over you.

And you didn’t notice that the shaking had stopped.

* * *

You woke up to a groaning figure right next to you, so your eyes were now wide open and you lifted your head so you could see his face. The area around his nose was purple and his eyelids were swollen from the punches he might have received, but when he saw _you_ , anything mattered anymore, and a nice and warm smile formed on his lips.

Smiling too, you felt your throat start to burn and an itch to form inside your nose, so your eyes were now crystal and tears started to fall slowly. You hid your face on the nape of his neck and breathed in his scent _— the scent of lavender mixed with new books smell —_ as his slim fingers started to caress the nape of your neck, making little chills run down your spine.

“ _Hey”_ he called you, his lips too close to your ear that was a dangerous move, but you couldn’t care less.

You lifted your head again and felt his thumbs brushing away the stubborn tears, making a small smile creep on your lips and your cheek to lean into his touch, trying to take in as much as possible. Your eyes kept focused on his, the brown orbs you thought you would never see again, so full of light, hope and _life._

Coming closer to his face, you sealed both lips, just to remember how it _felt_ to kiss him again. He cupped your cheeks and slid one of his hands to your neck once more, holding you tight and close to his _beating_ heart.

“ _I’m sorry”_ he said between pecks, making you lean back and stare into his eyes again, your noses still too close that could bump at the tiniest move.

“I forgive you” you said almost in a whisper, pecking his lips again, but it wasn’t enough for him.

“No, hear me out” he said, his voice raspy and a bit groggy from sleepiness, but you didn’t care. Resting your chin on his shoulder, you stared at him, waiting for what he was going to say next. “I fucked up before, when we were best friends, but I was doing it because I was scared… scared of making you go through it, the whole Spider-Man thing. I was afraid someone would come after you because… _because_ they knew I loved you.”

You rubbed your nose on his cheek and a small tear rolled down your cheek, so you wiped it on your own shoulder, letting out a deep sigh.

“And then we were already lost, _apart,_ so I thought you didn’t want anything more to do with me and I kept my distance. I thought I was _protecting_ you.” He said as his low voice kept going, sometimes groaning from the pain. “I didn’t know about your mother. I only knew a few months back, because May told me and… _I’m so sorry, (Y/N)._ I wanted to be there with you, to hold your hand… to be there so you wouldn’t have to do it all alone.”

By the time he stopped talking, both your eyes were tearing up and you tried to give him your best smile after a long sigh.

“I know you did.” You said quietly, running your fingers on his cheek, feeling the skin and the old scars that rested there. “And it’s okay, you are here now.”

“It’s more like _you_ are here now” he said, sealing your lips once more and tasting the saltiness of your tears. “And I meant what I said too. My feelings never faded, I guess.”

You bit your lower lip in surprise, playing with his freckles as your fingers touched them one by one.

“What did you say, again?” You teased, waiting for the moment you were prepared since you were a little kid.

Peter grabbed your face, making you look him deep into the eyes and gave you a playful, but full of joy and warm smile, peppering your whole face with little kisses that made you feel like you were locked out of heaven all that time.

“ _I love you”_ he said in a lower voice, making the vibrations of it create chills on your spine and a new wave of happiness take over you.

You placed your head across his body and put yourself above him, straddling his hips as you placed your hands down rubbing his neck slowly and lowering your face so you could kiss him more, but when your lips found his, a little groan left his throat and you put a hand on your mouth.

“ _Shit,_ I’m sorry!” You said, jumping out of him and being careful not to hurt him more. “I was just a bit too _excited.”_

 _“_ No problem” he said, comforting you as he rubbed your lower lip with his thumb, giving you another small smile, but meaningful. “I would be happy to do something about that another time, more like when I’m not all _fucked up.”_

You let out a small laugh and snuggled against his body once more, feeling his lips on the top of your head as you did and the scent of lavender filling your nostrils. You weren’t scared anymore, and some of the emptiness inside your chest seemed to fade away, so you _knew — you just knew_ _—_ that there wasn’t any more blood in the cut. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just wanted to thank you guys for all the love! hope to see you around soon!


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